Of Great Price
by batfacedgirl
Summary: Originally written for st xi kink meme prompt. Mirror!Spock never joined Star Fleet and Vulcan never became part of The Federation. Instead, Vulcan and Earth are at war and Spock manages to capture a Federation doctor.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Parmount.**

* * *

It was hot. Even for a Vulcan, the temperature was bordering on oppressive and the tall, lithe man who sprawled languidly in the silken cushions would normally have taken measures to address the heat. In this instance, though, he chose to remain seated, to luxuriate in the heavy warmth because today it served a purpose, provided an additional challenge in the game of chance he was currently orchestrating. Spock of Vulcan, son of Sarek of the most revered House of Surak, welcomed anything that added tribulation to the trial of his doctor.

The man in question was cooler against Spock's skin, his terran adaptations allowing for a thick sheen of sweat to decorate his flesh in an arousing fashion. On other days, Spock would enjoy lapping the salty moisture off of the smooth, rosy planes of the doctor's abdomen and chest but today was for other pursuits and Spock forced himself to remain still as the other man rode the length of his shaft in perfect rhythm with the ancient Terran metronome that kept a steady beat on the small wooden table beside them. The doctor's arms and thighs quivered with exertion and his eyes clenched tightly as he struggled to maintain the grueling tempo. He knew better than to falter or lose the count, knew that to do so would mean the immediate denial of his request, so he closed his eyes against any and all distractions, avoiding the merciless gaze of the powerful alien who used his body with creative glee.

Spock knew a great deal about Terrans, or humans, as they fancied themselves. He knew more, in fact, then the typical Vulcan schooled from childhood to recognize their round-eared enemy, to know their limited strengths and infinite vulnerabilities. The war between their races had stretched on for decades, outbreaks of fierce battle interspersed with stretches of tentative peace as the Terrans retreated back to the primitive little backwater capital of their empire known officially as Earth. But the ceasefires were always short-lived, as the Terrans were too stubborn to leave well enough alone and the Vulcans too accustomed to their captured human chattel to put a permanent halt to their slave raiding. It was on one such journey that Spock's father had captured and enslaved a young human woman with smooth, delicate features and a quick, witty mind. Her name had been Amanda; she who had been Spock's mother.

He held smoky and incomplete memories of this woman who his father had esteemed highly enough to claim her half-breed child as a legal son but they inspired little attachment, for Amanda had died when he was only two. The lack of Terran influence in his youth had molded him and he had embraced the Vulcan tenets and rituals wholeheartedly. He had shown out ward reverence for his father in all things, as befitted a son of Vulcan, but inwardly he had scoffed at his father's subtle respect for many things human, his steady insistence that while the Terran race was abhorrent as a whole, one human frequently proved to be an exceptional treasure. Spock had rejected this notion and his Terran roots for thirty-two years until he had been confronted face to face with the reality of his own arrogant assumptions. Until he himself had chanced upon a human who had fascinated, exhilarated, and proved to be so very, very worthy.

Spock preened slightly at the memory, then reached over and pressed a button, bringing the metronome's steady clicks to a halt. The doctor had excelled and it was time to move on to the next level. Planting his feet solidly on the ground, he grasped the human's hips firmly in his hand and thrust up roughly into the hot channel. The doctor gasped at the sudden barrage but he had been well trained by Spock's own firm hand and knew what was expected. Bracing his hands against the Vulcan's chest, the human met him thrust for vicious thrust, trembling and straining to keep pace with Spock's superior stamina. What fragile shields the human maintained around his thoughts cracked and crumbled under his exhaustion and rivulets of fear and desperation began to run down his skin as beautifully as his sweat. Spock basked in this leakage, soaking up the wild and untamed feelings flowing freely through the skin beneath his hands. The human's mind was opening to him and Spock immediately recognized his fading endurance. Just a bit more then, a little extra push.

The hands braced on his chest were beginning to grip and claw in desperation, the muscles were visibly quivering with fatigue, but Spock knew his possession's mind well, knew how far he would go, how hard he would push his body to fight for the Vulcan's hard won permission. He had come too far now, he would not break, he would not miss a beat because to do so could mean Spock's immediate refusal. He'd done it before, refused the doctor's pleas when he had failed to perform to satisfaction, and he had every intention of repeating his denial tonight if the human gave him anything less than his very best. And yet he found that frequently, when dealing with his prickly _kasemano,_ he was learning to be generous.

*

It had not been this way at first. In the beginning, his feelings had been limited to an obsessive sense of _mine_ that had shocked him with its appalling clarity. He had been undone by his desire, furious with himself for proving his father right, and he had demanded payment from the fragile human held captive in his bed.

They had not been looking for a skirmish, the Vulcan ship on which Spock had been serving a tour under the firm but effective leadership of his father. They were in a state of temporary cease fire with the Terrans and their patrol along the Vulcan neutral zone should have been a simple matter of course. But truce or not, the starship they stumbled upon about midway through their run was simply impossible to ignore.

The Terrans had fought admirably when engaged, this Spock had to admit. They had been crafty and evasive and had inflicted substantial damage against the Vulcan vessel. In the end, though, their courage, determination, and the brilliant ingenuity of their captain had not been enough against superior technology and advanced firepower. The ship, a fast but ill-equipped vessel called _Enterprise_ had been left dead in space, its warp core and nacelles damaged beyond repair.

The fierce battle had left more than half the two hundred man crew of the Terran ship dead before the Vulcans had even attempted to board. Spock was unsure how many more might have died in hand to hand combat in the ship's narrow corridors if his father had not come up with a stroke of ruthless brilliance. At his orders, Spock had calibrated the coordinates to beam a Vulcan contingent around the inner perimeter of the _Enterprise_ bridge, rendering the command crew and the golden haired man who was their captain prisoner in a matter of moments.

Sarek of Vulcan was nothing if not a pragmatist, and his leadership style included deliberate instructions and succinct, well supported lessons. He began as he meant to go forward and he intended to drive the new reality of their lives home to the Terran crew with finality. In this vein, his men had forced the remaining seventy-three crewmembers into the shuttle bay to view of demonstration of Vulcan superiority. As the terrified human's had watched, Sarek had dragged their golden captain before the assembly and stripped him bare. Using the human's own torn command tunic, Sarek had bound the human to the waiting table. In an obvious display of disdain towards any possible threat, he had cast off all of his armor and weaponry and unbound the full length of his hair, letting it flow free around the lean musculature of his body. As Spock and his clansmen looked on with pride, Sarek had stood before the horrified Terrans, glorious in his unabashed nakedness and addressed the crowd, "Humans, you will bear witness to your inferiority. You will watch as I take your captain and make him mine." Turning back to the table, the Vulcan had proceeded to forcibly sodomize their blue-eyed leader in a methodically sadistic fashion. Sarek had been merciless in the claiming but the most impacting element of the display had been the telepathic hold he had forced upon the human writhing beneath him, the man the Terrans had called Kirk. Spock's father had pushed hi s way into the human's mind, forcing him to cling desperately to his violater and climax repeatedly through his own public rape. And the mere sight of the Vulcans' telepathic abilities had been enough to cow almost the entire crew into helpless surrender.

There had been some residual resistance, though. A dark haired Terran with a jagged scar decorating his face had pulled a concealed knife and gotten within ten steps of Sarek and his victim before he was felled by a phaser stun. A burly, angry man with a strange accent and an obvious talent for pugilism had also tried his hand but a well thrown knife had taken the fool's life.

Throughout these unfortunate disturbances, Sarek had kept his mind on his task, focused solely on the complete despoilment of the human captain. The entire bay was in thrall to the unfolding scene, raw horror pinning their attention to the table on the dais in the middle of the room where the blonde man panted and moaned helplessly on his back as the Vulcan brutally fucked his body and mind. But Spock had been wary, and it was his eye that caught the sudden flicker of movement as a tall, dark-haired man with enigmatic hazel eyes suddenly withdrew a hypo from his boot and pressed it into Commander Siveck's throat.

Leaning back against the wall, Spock had quickly taken himself out of the line of sight and carefully begun to circumnavigate the room as the tall man maneuvered Siveck out of the crowd and made his play.

"Hey, you! Vulcan. I know all about your goddamn respect for a fellow hobgoblin's life, so unless you want your man here dead, you'll let my captain go!"

Sarek had paused atop his pinned victim but his expression remained calm and vaguely amused. "Human," he had asked, "What do you hope to accomplish with this ploy? You're ship is damaged beyond repair and you are completely outnumbered. All that you can achieve here is your own injury and possible death."

The man had glowered, an expression Spock found rather attractive as he stealthily maneuvered himself through the silent, shell-shocked crowd. "I'm not trying to be any hero," the man had retorted sharply, pressing the hypo deep into his hostage's throat. "And I know there's no getting out of this. All I want is to give my captain medical attention he obviously needs. Let him go, sir. You've made your point."

Sarek had smiled, an icy, chilling expression but the human had not faltered and Spock had felt a strange admiration for the man even as he'd stalked him covertly from behind. Still perched over his human prey, his father had begun to speak again. "Human, you are a healer, are you not, a doctor." The tone of his voice had been decidedly triumphant and the tall man had faltered a bit beneath it. "So what if I am?"

"Well, human, it has been my vast experience that although most of your kind is ignorant and vicious by nature, those of you who embrace the healing arts tend towards your species' inherent but repressed capacity for empathy. You have a respect for life, Doctor. Now, I have no way of knowing if you are such a man, but in light of my past experiences, I will take a gamble. You will not kill Siveck, Doctor." Sarek had punctuated his sentence with a deep thrust into the captain's prone form, "You will not because you value life, his, yours, your captain's, your crew's. And you are well aware that many will die if you harm our clansman's. Your captain is now mine, a fate you cannot change. Now, you will release my officer or face the consequences."

The doctor's face had twisted in indecision and Spock knew his father had gambled well. The human was not a killer but he was still desperate to help his captain, a man Spock believed had probably been a friend. His interest had risen as he had crept closer. What kind of man was this, to risk so much for a friend? "Please," the doctor had begged, throwing his pride aside, "Please stop hurting him."

The icy smile had returned to the Vulcan's face as he nuzzled against the young captain, running the length of his hair across the battered, used body. "This, Doctor, will be the cornerstone of the rest of his life. And you were warned."

At his father's curt nod, Spock had leaped from behind a near catatonic ensign and planted his hand firmly against the doctor's neck, compressing the human's trapezius nerve. The hypo had clattered to the floor and Siveck had stumbled away as Spock caught the man's unconscious form and lowered him easily to the ground. Glancing up, he had quickly noted that his father had already forgotten about the unfolding confrontation and had turned his attention back to the human captain, pushing himself deep into the man's defenseless mind. The blue eyes had widened for a moment and a small gasp escaped from his lips before he collapsed in a semi-conscious daze.

Sarek had taken a moment to compose himself, to sweep his elegant cloak up off the floor and drape it over Kirk's nude form. Turning to the paralyzed crew, he had proclaimed loudly, "You are here and now all declared the property of the House of Surak. As befitting their victory, the sons of the House are free to claim you as their personal possessions. Refusal to comply with these claims will result in nothing but your harm." Running his eyes over the terrified faces before him, Sarek had made no attempt to hide his satisfied smirk. "I am Sarek, son of the House of Surak, and I have claimed the human James Kirk as my property as a spoil of war." Turning towards the table, he had carefully wrapped the limp body in the discarded cloak and hefted it into his arms with surprising care. As he scanned the room again, his eyes had fallen on his son, still standing over the prone form of the Terran doctor. "Spock, son of the House of Surak, in light of your loyal efforts to the clan, you are awarded second choice among the captives."

Sarek had eyed him hard as he spoke the traditional honors, wordless instruction passing between father and son. He remembered their conversations, his father's insistence that the right human could have worth beyond measure. He had been so arrogant, so very disbelieving but as he suddenly stared the possibility in the face, he had been forced to admit his intrigue. He had scanned the bay with a careful eye, taking in the various faces that gaped at him in horror. There had been many among them who would be considered beautiful but none called out to him in the way his father had described.

Glancing down at his feet, Spock had carefully perused the attractive lines of the doctor's sprawled form. He did not know what had drawn him, for the man had displayed a reckless, emotional nature that was completely contrary to his own. But it was so very unique, so unlike anything Spock had encountered thus far, and it had called to him. Awash in curiosity, Spock had taken a knee and placed his hand against the man's cheek. As he pushed carefully through the doctor's mind, he had also perused his face. What he had found had fascinated him; emotional, yes, but also deeply empathic, intelligent, well-read. Stubborn and proud and torrential in his complexity. Spock was suddenly flooded with feral possessiveness and he had hauled the doctor roughly against his chest and risen with the man in his arms.

"I am Spock, son of the House of Surak, and I claim the human Leonard McCoy as my property as a spoil of war."

*

Grasping McCoy's hips, Spock pressed the human into his lap, impaling him firmly and fully . The human gasped despite his exhaustion and he leaned heavily on Spock's chest as he panted lightly to regain his spent breath. Spock indulged his beautiful _kafeh_ for a brief moment, allowing him precious seconds to rest. Releasing his waist and raising a hand to the small of McCoy's back, he pulled the human flush against him, chest to chest, face to face. The doctor came willingly, only the briefest tension in the smooth planes of his back revealing his desperate desire to rebel against this next intrusion. Spock had to commend the human. He was certainly learning a modicum of control.

Since his imprisonment, Spock had visited a myriad of debaucheries on his _kasemano_ but nothing he had inflicted upon the human had invoked the same desperate, helpless rebellion as the concept of a mind meld. In his free life, his _kafeh_ had been a private man, inherently suspicious of telepathic practices of any kind. He had fought long and hard against Spock's initial invasion but the Vulcan would not be deterred and a potent combination of physical stimulation and mental impressments had finally forced the doctor into capitulation. The door was now always open and Spock was free to wander through McCoy's thoughts but the subtle hint of rebellion had never been completely purged. Spock enjoyed the fight, reveled in it, in fact. It served as a constant reminder, a trophy of his triumph over the human's bright, arresting mind.

Running his hands over the human's face, Spock settled onto the meld points on the doctor's cheek. The well-maintained link between them sprang instantly to life and Spock dropped his hand and ran it gently, possessively over the human's skin as he permeated the other man's thoughts.

"_You did well, Kafeh. Your performance was more than adequate."_ A wealth of conflicting emotions writhed inside McCoy but beneath the rage and humiliation, Spock clearly detected pleasure from his words, "_Yes, my Kafeh, you may fight it but we can both see that you do wish to please me. And you have and for this you shall now receive a reward."_

Hope flared across the bond, across McCoy's face as he met Spock's subtly indulgent gaze. He raised his head gingerly, careful to maintain the skin to skin contact and penetration that the Vulcan demanded of him. Rubbing light circles over the human's back and compressing every inch of their exposed torsos tightly together, Spock eyed him with a look bordering on tenderness as he voiced, "_Not quite yet, Doctor. You still have not demonstrated your complete obedience. But in light of your admirable efforts thus far, I will lift some of your restrictions. _

_You will ride me, Kafeh, but I will allow you to set the pace. You will press your body against mine completely but I will allot you free movement of your head and arms. And while you are forbidden to reach orgasm without my explicit permission, you may experience arousal and take pleasure from your ministrations."_

Another volley of emotions raced across the bond, frustration paramount among them. Spock smiled inwardly at that for he and McCoy both knew that once he had initiated a meld, his _kafeh's_ body was his to control. Achieving orgasm without permission was subject to harsh punishment, but the doctor still occasionally gave in to his little bouts of rebellion. In a full meld, though, such disobedience was impossible as Spock held all his reactions in check. Even more difficult for the doctor to swallow was the ever emerging element of his psyche that responded to and craved Spock's complete control. It was there now, warring with the doctor's inherent sense of self and Spock basked in the addictive conflict. Cupping the human's chin, he trapped him in a penetrative stare.

"_Are my instructions clear to you, Kafeh?"_

McCoy tensed ever so slightly but caught himself and relaxed back into the body beneath him. Forcing himself to maintain eye contact, he answered with him own mind.

"_Yes, Trensu."_

Spock's lips quirked, _"And you are grateful, my Kafeh, are you not?"_

"_Yes, Trensu."_

"_You may demonstrate your gratitude, Doctor."_

His beautiful pet was well trained and knew just what was required of him. Sliding himself up the Vulcan's hot body, McCoy leaned in and pressed an eager kiss to Spock's lips. He kept the pressure firm and constant but made no overtures with his tongue. That was a privilege only granted by verbal permission. Pleased with his obedience, Spock broke the contact gently.

"_Excellent, Kafeh. You may begin."_

Spock relaxed against the decadent pillows as his doctor began to move over and around his body. The human was well-trained and he knew that failure to take pleasure from the experience would be tantamount to disobedience and all that entailed. With that thought in mind, Spock opened their mind link as fully as possible, prepared to luxuriate in every drop of his pet's physical response.

The doctor's movements had begun slowly as he took care to follow his instructions. The human rode him with exquisite restraint, pulling himself completely off of the Vulcan's shaft until only the sensitive head of his erection was still nestled in the warm body. He then drove himself back down, firmly and deliberately, rolling his hips to rub his prostate over Spock's engorged length. Mindful of his master's commands and his own personal response, he pressed his body into the Vulcan's warm frame, touching skin to silken inch of skin, dragging the warm planes and softly furred flesh of muscled chests and bellies against each other in delicious, delicious friction. His own cock, previously ignored in light of more pressing issues, strove to obey the instructions of its master. As it was encased between their bodies and stroked and teased with each decadent slide of flesh on flesh, it began to respond forcefully.

Through their link, Spock carefully examined and catalogued each of his _kafeh's _satisfying reactions. As a result of his training under Spock's demanding hand, his deeply emotional human had developed a rather refined sense of practicality and he recognized that now was such a time to throw pride and humiliation aside and submit himself completely to the Vulcan's demands. Spock savored these sensations of emotional surrender almost as much as he relished the carnal delights the doctor was administering to his master's body. The human was losing himself to their coitus, his previously meticulous and deliberate thought processes overshadowed by primal need. He had wrapped his arms under and around Spock's shoulders, gaining leverage that allowed him to cavort against his master's flesh harder and faster. McCoy's face was buried in the crook of Spock's neck, each hot, panting breath leaving a pleasant fog on the skin of the Vulcan's throat. As he ran his hands proprietarily over his human's writhing body, Spock found the sensations most enjoyable.

"_Kafeh?"_

The doctor knew better than to break stride as he answered, _"Yes, Trensu."_

"_Are you experiencing pleasure?"_

"_Yes, Trensu."_

"_Good. Expound upon your enjoyment to me."_

In his past life, his human had been easily angered by obvious questions and had taken offense to the notion of discussing sexual relations in clinical terms. Since he'd uncovered these deep seated responses, Spock had perversely frequented such requests on the doctor, who was too obedient now to refuse. Through the bond, though, Spock could still sense a tiny breach of resentment as McCoy began to explain.

"_The pressure of your skin against mine is causing excessive stimulation of five of my erogenous zones. The angle of my body as your penis enters me is activating the nerves in my prostate gland. Also, the position of my own penis between our bodies is creating intense friction, which is stimulating the tissue and causing me to experience erection."_

Spock smiled as his doctor's efforts picked up even more force and speed. As hard as he tried to deny it, McCoy found such sweet gratification in his submission. _"You are pleasing me, my Kafeh but I desire you to give me more. Vocalize your response to my body, Kafeh, without words."_

McCoy's reaction was immediate as Spock's command freed him from the restraint of silence. His face came alive as sensuous and uncontrollable gasps and moans emanated from his mouth. His doctor was torn, mortification bleeding through his mind even as the sounds of his own lustful response to the Vulcan's body increased his reluctant arousal. Spock soaked it up, wallowed in the juxtaposition of his beautiful _kasemano's_ complex mind. Oh, the sweet, intoxicating torture he could inflict upon his doctor simply by letting go of his restraints. McCoy, proud, stubborn, belligerent by nature, could have handled complete physical domination so much easier. But Spock had not chosen him from among his shipmates for simple physical satisfaction. He had wanted that mind, that intelligent, determined, aware mind to bend and twist under his own, to struggle against its own pleasure. For that, his system of exchange had been perfect. If the doctor wished to give aid, to retain any part of his former self, then he would sacrifice to Spock all that he desired.

McCoy's movements were becoming erratic, desperate, any remnants of conscious resentment drowning beneath the intoxicating sensations thrumming under his skin. He was clinging to the Vulcan, working his body hard over the staff that penetrated him so intimately. The doctor was pressing their bodies together, near desperate with need and completely oblivious to their enmity as he became lost in that which was warm and firm beneath him. Wrapping his arms around Spock's back, McCoy thrust his hips haphazardly, loud, babbling gasps pouring from his lips. His eyes met Spock's, pleading wordlessly for a release that could be given or withheld on a whim. In deference to his own intense arousal, the Vulcan grasped McCoy's shivering flanks and began to buck against him, impaling the human even harder along the unforgiving line of his shaft.

"_You wish to ask me something, Kafeh. You know you may not ask for release, correct?"_

Desperate in his arms, McCoy shook his head frantically, "_Yes, Trensu ." _Of course not. His beautiful human's training was precise and well ingrained. Spock held the human's gaze with hungry eyes as he increased his merciless ravishment. _"You may ask me, my Kafeh."_

McCoy's expression was a classically rendered portrait of pure response as rage and misery broke easily under the irresistible force of raw need. Words simply failed him, mental or spoken, but the luscious sensations running over and through Spock's well-attended cock inspired him to grant a modicum of mercy.

"_Ah, I see,Kafeh, you wish to give me more expressions of gratitude, correct?"_ The hysterical human was helpless to do anything but nod his head frantically. Spock schooled his features into an expression of consideration, _"Such a display will prove pleasurable. I will allow it." _

Surging up off the mattress, he wrapped his arms like steel bands around the human's weaker body, forcing the other man to take him deeply as he flattened their bodies together. McCoy emitted a sharp and involuntary gasp and Spock seized the opportunity to take and plunder the human's beautiful mouth. How he loved that mouth, the softness and texture so different from his own and he continued to thrust and pummel into both of the human's openings relentlessly. The last vestiges of McCoy's meager shields collapsed and he met the invasive kiss hungrily, panting and grinding shamelessly against the Vulcan's hot skin.

Spock clamped down on his own tightly-wound responses under the deluge of McCoy's erotic abandon. His human was close, so close, on the very cusp of ecstasy and nothing but Spock's ironclad hold over his body was keeping his impending climax at bay. McCoy was desperate, rocking and thrashing against the Vulcan, seeking unattainable release. Under the human's frantic efforts, Spock's own controls gave slightly and he moaned, a deep, throaty sound that reverberated through the chamber and caused McCoy's whole body to convulse with need. He was ready, ready to reach completion, to sate himself in the body of his _kafeh_, to ride out the waves of his slave's climax as it blended with his own. The temptation to do so was overwhelming, but Spock, son of the House of Surak was not a human to give in to base desire. He was Vulcan, he was in control, and he would play his game to its glorious conclusion.

Without warning, Spock's hold on the doctor's lower back tightened into an unbreakable vice, planting the human firmly and completely on his erect length and stilling his movements. McCoy, delirious with arousal, hovered precariously on the brink of all out rebellion before a shard of his conscious mind roared to the surface to save him from himself. Spock heard the human's mind, felt it fight off the inebriation of its own sexual need in favor of the request which Spock still had yet to grant. Cruel pleasure filled the Vulcan as his human battled to gain control over his shivering, needy body. But his McCoy was no fool. It would have taken him no time at all to realize the game, to recognize the stakes and the price of failure. He breathed heavily, shaking under Spock's touch, but he sat still and made no attempt to move or increase their contact.

Victory danced in Spock's eyes as he released his iron grasp on his doctor and pressed a tender kiss to his quivering lips. He brushed a hair off the beautiful, haggard face and pushed lightly against the racing heart. _"You may rise, my Kafeh."_

In amongst the predictable brew of exhaustion and frustration, Spock could sense lingering fear in his human's mind, rich, thick fear of a denial of the request he had worked so hard to have realized. The doctor stood silently beside the elaborate chaise, willfully ignoring the hyper-aroused state of his body and stared hard at the smooth stones of the chamber floor. Leaning back against the pillows, heedless of his own unsatisfied state, Spock allowed his eyes to wander over McCoy's tantalizing form, the way the streaks of perspiration glimmered in the fading sunlight as the human trembled in unresolved need beneath his gaze. Pressing gently, he reached back into the doctor's mind, reveling in the strength of a link that transcended physical contact.

"_I _believe_ you made a request earlier this evening, Kafeh. You may restate it now."_

The doctor stiffened visibly before him, anxiety causing his exhausted form to seize. _"Trensu, a transport of new Terran prisoners arrived this morning. I want to inoculate the children and expectant mothers. It would be useful to your father's household," _McCoy rushed on, running through his well rehearsed argument. _"The new prisoners' life expectancy without the medicine is less than 60%. With the shot, their chances will increase to 85%. It's a simple procedure and would take very little time and resources."_

Spock nodded thoughtfully. _"But it will take your time, Kafeh, will it not? Time you might have spent at my side?"_

McCoy heard the real question. _"It'll take less than two hours, Trensu, especially if you let Christine help me."_

Shifting on the pillows, Spock stared curiously at McCoy. He exalted in these moments, for it was at these times that his doctor was truly under his control. It would be so easy, so simple to deny the request. McCoy was without recourse and better still, he knew it. But it did not stop him from trying, from making every attempt to heal and protect. And though Spock doubted he would ever tell him, he treasured this above all in his _kasemano_, his adherence to his moral center, his sacrificial heart. Spock had claimed almost every other part of his human, but this he nourished and left unmarred, a sparkling diamond too brilliant to be crushed to dust. But while he would not destroy the healer's heart, he was perfectly willing to bend and use it for his own purposes.

Turning to the agitated human, Spock smiled indulgently. _"Take your robe, Kafeh. You may wear it to attend to the prisoners. I will give you the two hours but since you will be away from my side when I desire otherwise, you will receive punishment. Do you accept this?"_

Gritting his teeth, McCoy nodded. He had expected nothing less.

"_Good ,Kafeh. I will remain in your mind, and you will be aware that you have left me in an unsatisfied state. As punishment, you will experience the same discomfort. I will hold you in a state of arousal until you return to me in two hours. At that point, you will sate me thoroughly and deny me nothing. Is that clear?"_

At his words, the doctor sagged slightly in relief. _"Yes, Trensu."_

A burst of possessive pride filled the Vulcan and he pushed out mentally, stimulating the human's mind like the gentle stroke of finger tips against his aching length. _"You have pleased me, Kafeh. If you continue to do so, I will allow you to achieve climax tonight._" He chuckled at the barely perceptible sense of hope that coursed across their bond. _"Go, Doctor. And be mindful of the time."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek. If I did, there would've been more Karl in the movie. Just sayin.**

* * *

The doctor's retreat had been swift, encouraged by the time limitations. As he watched his _kafeh's_ receding form, Spock had pushed out into his mind again, taking careful note of McCoy's physical indicators. The doctor was in a state of complete arousal and Spock played idly with those sensations across their link, knowing McCoy would feel them. Leaning back against the pillows behind him, Spock ran his thumb lazily around his own cock, sending the surge of pleasure to his human, a reminder of his master's unanswered want. McCoy would be helpless against the sensation for he was unable to touch himself without his master's verbal permission. McCoy would be in agony but Spock knew his doctor well and recognized that it would not be the Terran children who suffered. No, he would put them first, deplete his meager reserves to address their needs. And then he would return, exhausted, desperate, pride and shame cast aside as he submitted himself completely to the Vulcan and the release only he could provide.

Spock smiled lazily as his thoughts ran through the gamut of his _kafeh's _training. It had taken some time for the master to identify all of the slave's weaknesses, to learn how to turn McCoy to his desires but the transition had been quicker than most humans as McCoy was want to wear his emotions on his sleeve. It hadn't been too long before Spock had mapped all the doctor's pressure points. He had begun the process immediately on their initial journey back to Vulcan.

*

At his father's recommendation, Spock put the human in a state of mild sedation and placed him the first officer's cabin while he attended to various responsibilities on his ship. It was necessary, Sarek instructed, that he be the first thing his new _kafeh_ saw upon waking. Hours had passed and Spock had still been detained when his father suddenly approached him and laid an uncharacteristic hand on his shoulder. "Walk with me, my son."

They strode through the corridors as their clansmen parted in deference to their rank. As they walked, Spock took note of the heady, musky aroma of the human captain that clung thickly to Sarek's skin and re-plaited hair and felt a surge of familial pride. His father's victory over his enemy had been decisive and all encompassing and he had taken this man's body as a trophy for his own pleasure. The human's distinct scent, the perfume of his defeat was a mark of honor to their House and Sarek would wear it publicly for the next twenty-four hours to legitimize his claim. Spock's mind drifted to the deposed Terran, no doubt drenched in Sarek's own unique essence and left bound helplessly in the commander's bed when Sarek had finally taken his leave. These thoughts deterred him, taking him back to his own acquisition. He shook away that thought to find his father staring at him rather indulgently.

"I apologize for my distraction, Father," He replied formally, "Was your conquest satisfactory."

The older Vulcan's lips quirked slightly. "Indeed. Well worth touching, in body and mind. He is intelligent, determined and strong and I envision pleasurable years spent bending him to my will. But I do not wish to discuss my own accomplishments, my son. Let us speak of your doctor."

They reached a small observatory and Sarek drew to a halt. "Spock, I know many would view your selection as unwise for the doctor is obviously a strong-willed and emotional being, but I am proud of your choice. This McCoy will be a challenge but your victory over him will bring sweet rewards. You looked inside his mind, did you not?"

"Yes, Father."

"And?"

"He is a complex juxtaposition of emotions, Father, fiercely proud, courageous, brilliant and yet self-sacrificial. I found him to be…"

"Fascinating?" his father interjected with a knowing look. Spock inclined his head. "Indeed."

A deeply satisfied smile appeared on Sarek's face and Spock wondered at the unfamiliar expression. "My son, emotions run deep in our people and we must learn to acknowledge them or be destroyed by them. Tell me, what does this McCoy make you feel?"

Spock stared at the wall, allowing his mind to return to the shuttle bay, to the feel of the human beneath his hands. "Possessiveness," he responded honestly, "And other emotions I cannot properly put into words. I wish to…explore him."

Sarek nodded contentedly, his expression strangely serene beneath its typical cold façade. "My son," He stated, "I do not claim the powers of a seer, just that of simple deductive logic but I do believe this McCoy will indeed be your fascination. I have faith in you, Spock, but I will caution you to use restraint. Find a way to bend him deeply to your will, my son, but do not break him, for once something is broken it can never be whole again.

I am placing you on official leave for the next forty-eight hours. Use this time to formalize your claim but do so artfully, Spock, as would befit a son of Surak. I can tell you from experience that physical force may have its place but there are few things in this world as pleasurable as simple surrender."

Spock considered his father's words long and hard as he sat beside his bed, watching his doctor struggle to throw off the effects of the sedative. He understood the applications of a claiming bond and was perfectly capable of initiating a deep meld on a non-telepathic sentient being but one brief look inside the doctor's mind had confirmed that the human would put up considerable resistance. He could force his way past the barriers, of course, as his father had done to Kirk, but he lacked Sarek's experience and would likely do permanent damage to McCoy's incredible mind. Such an outcome was unacceptable. He would need to find a way to make the doctor allow him access.

Secure in his path, Spock carefully prepared himself, tripping off the heavy armor, leathers and weapons and tying a pair of loose fitting black meditation pants at his hips. He unbound the full length of his hair, letting it trail down his back in licking waves. Pulling up his computer, he raised his chamber's temperature and lowered the lights, implementing circumstances that would put the human at a distinct disadvantage. Mounting his bunk, he straddled the unconscious human at the waist, his intricate and well-notched clan dagger resting lightly at his thigh. Bare-chested in the flickering light of his meditation pot, he knew he cut an intimidating figure as he leaned down and caressed McCoy's cheek, pushing as far into his mind as the doctor's surprisingly sturdy shields would allow.

"_WAKE!"_

The doctor's reaction was immediate, hazel eyes flying open and fixing immediately on the tall, dark threat looming over him. His movements were sluggish and ineffectual but determined as he attempted to throw Spock off and scramble away until the Vulcan pressed down firmly on his shoulders and raised the dagger intentionally to his throat.

"_Be still, human, if you wish to remain whole and unbound."_

Through the shallow meld, Spock tasted the doctor's inner turmoil, his desire to rebel against the intrusion in his mind warring against his sense of self-preservation. He sensed immediately when the human conceded to common sense, relaxing back into the bunk and he nodded in approval.

"_Human, do you understand what has happened to you?"_

McCoy's full, enticing mouth twisted into a bitter scowl. "Yes, "He'd bit out acerbically, "I know. You're the parasites of the universe, the egomaniacs that steal and pillage at their will. You're Vulcans. And now I'm your loot."

Spock let the doctor complete his rant before backhanding him sharply across the face. Giving McCoy no time to recover, he re-implemented the meld, pushing hard against the doctor's shield. "_Hysterics will award you nothing, human. The violent history between our peoples have little bearing on the here and now, between us, in this chamber. Do you understand what will occur here, human?"_

McCoy scowl grew darker. "Yeah, I imagine I do, Vulcan."

Spock schooled his features to cold indifference even as he gleaned satisfaction from McCoy's harsh tongue. Lowering his face, he hovered a breath above the doctor's lips. _"No, human, I do not think you do. What is it you imagine? That I will rape you, take my pleasure in your body? No, Dr. McCoy, I want nothing so base or so simple as that."_ Without warning, Spock drove his dagger deep into the bunk side table and pinned the human's hands beside his head. _"You and your shipmates have been requisitioned as property by the clan of Surak. My father, Sarek of Vulcan, has personally taken your captain and claimed him as kafeh, a slave through bonding. It is the right of any of Surak's sons to exercise such a bonding on a captive of their choice. I, Doctor, have taken you."_ McCoy sucked in a breath to protest but Spock squeezed his wrists in warning and the doctor managed to hold his tongue, "_You may resist me, but it will only postpone the inevitable. I will claim you, human, but I will not rape you. You will give yourself to me, body and mind."_

Whatever self-control McCoy had been employing evaporated instantly at Spock's brash declaration. McCoy fought like a crazed lematya but Spock possessed three times his strength and infinite determination and he restrained the human easily until he collapsed, completely depleted. Finally buckling into an exhausted heap, McCoy curled on his side beneath the looming Vulcan.

"Dammit," he begged into the bed, "Fine, I can't stop you. You're going to do what you want with my body but please, _please_ stay out of my head."

Reaching down, Spock took a gentle but firm handful of the man's hair and tugged him around to face him. _"Human, you still misunderstand my intentions. I do not intend to simply partake of you once. I will claim you as kafeh, a permanent and unbreakable bond. You will belong to me, completely, for the rest of your life._" As the doctor continued to struggle feebly beneath his hold, Spock pinned him more securely and brushed his lips over a gently rounded ear. _"It is perhaps noble that you struggle, Doctor, but completely illogical. You have already realized the futility and still you continue to fight. I can make it tolerable for you, even pleasurable or I can make it agonizing and slow. The choice is yours. What will you do?"_

Cursing loudly in his vulgar Terran tongue, McCoy yanked his head away. "Fuck you, Vulcan. You won't get a damn thing from me willingly. I will fight you every step of the way."

Kneeling over the enraged human, Spock suppressed a smile. No, it was not in McCoy's nature to surrender, a trait for which Spock was grateful. He had no interest in a cypher or weakling and the doctor's resistance would make his eventual cessation all the more delicious. Leaning down again, he whispered, "As you wish, Doctor," into the human's ear before rearing back and wrenching his knife out of the table.

Flinging the doctor onto his back, Spock used his knees and body to pin the man flat while he methodically sliced away the uniform of the Empire. Panic gave McCoy an adrenaline surge but he was still no match for his Vulcan subduer and Spock quickly tore him naked, vulnerable on the bed. Giving in to momentary indulgence, Spock pinned the doctor's arms and ran his hand over the elegant musculature of his chest and abdomen. The human was exceptionally pleasing to the eye. He had chosen well.

Stepping lightly off his bunk, Spock reached down and yanked McCoy roughly to his feet, grabbing the ahn-woon he had placed within easy reach as he forced the doctor down on his knees. Kneeling behind him and twisting his wrists into his back with one hand, Spock grasped McCoy's chin and spoke quietly in his ear. "Human, you will submit to me. What I am about to put you through is both painful and unnecessary and while it will cause you no lasting damage, I assure you it will leave a lasting impression."

As he spoke, Spock released the doctor's face and used his hand to stretch out the length of the ahn-woon. The human struggled ferociously in his hold but he squeezed the tender wrists sharply and the movements stilled as he wrapped the middle of the long, cloth weapon around the doctor's arms. Higher and higher he laced the long strip, pulling the man's arms painfully tight. When the strain became dangerous to the doctor's shoulders, Spock threaded the binding across McCoy's chest and stomach and looped it intricately around his thighs. The doctor's last futile struggles died out with a curse as Spock pulled the ahn-woon taut, causing McCoy's knees to splay unnaturally. As the man gasped and fought for his balance, Spock clasped his ankles together and bound them in a crossed position on the floor. Taking the very ends of the long leather strip, Spock pulled down on McCoy's hands, looping the end of the material through the binding and forcing his spine into an arch.

Satisfied, Spock sat back on his haunches to admire his work. The human shifted and squirmed slightly but any larger efforts were hindered by his precarious balance. He looked absolutely decadent, bound so provocatively on his straddling knees and Spock found himself unable to stay away. Kneeling down behind his pet, Spock reached around and brushed his hands lightly over the doctor's straining pectoral muscles before reaching up to lay his fingers against the meld points on the side of McCoy's face. Pushing carefully into the human's mind, Spock quickly encountered the well-maintained barriers.

"_Human, I know you can hear me. You are still resisting but I sense that you are already experiencing pain from your position. This will only increase exponentially as time passes. As your agony and exhaustion intensify, your shields will weaken and grant me more access and I assure you that I will give up no ground once I have gained it. You cannot fight this forever. Submit to me."_

"Fuck you!" The human bit out. Spock smiled. "_Yes, Doctor, eventually, but first you will need to think on your actions. I will meditate as well and then we will revisit this issue."_

Spock knew it would take time and effort but even he had been surprised by McCoy's reserves and ability to resist. Over the following eighteen hours, he inflicted numerous ignominies on his bound possession and the man still did not surrender.

At first Spock attempted pain but quickly realized that such stimulus had the opposite effect, shoring up the doctor's mental shields with rage. So Spock switched tactics, forcing pleasure out of the human to his helpless mortification. Content with his methods, Spock noted that already he was learning such interesting things about this man, Leonard McCoy. Fury made him strong but humiliation and the rending of his pride exhausted him and broke him down. And Spock discovered that he took great pleasure in this work.

He took full advantage of his human's vulnerable state and began a thorough exploration of McCoy's body. He mapped every line and crevasse, memorized every scar, learned the sensitivity of McCoy's nipples, the taste of his cock, the weight of his sac. He massaged the human's abused muscles, providing temporary relief that only served to heighten the inevitably returning agony. He suckled the doctor mercilessly, bringing him to the very edge of ecstasy only to leave him painfully aroused, fingered him with deep, gentle strokes while pressing kisses lightly against his exposed throat. And all the while, he pushed relentlessly against McCoy's shields, assaulting them with firm, even pressure, laying claim to the human's mind inch by inch.

His progress was necessarily slow, as he was determined to inflect no lasting damage, but he stumbled upon the key to unlocking his human quite by chance. The romantic practice of kissing was foreign to his planet but it was one of the few human traditions that most Vulcans had come to enjoy. Spock had employed this tactic liberally on McCoy, using his lips on every part of the human's body, but he had thus far refrained from touching the human's mouth. But as he knelt in front of him and pressed his fingers to the meld points on his face, Spock had a sudden instinctual need to press their lips lightly together and nearly let out an uncharacteristic gasp as McCoy's shields literally buckled beneath the force of his encroaching mind. His subconscious pushed forward, grabbing at the newly exposed ground and delighting in what it had discovered.

A kiss. McCoy could be undone with a kiss. The angry, unbending human had a vulnerability for that most simple and intimate of acts! Spock was nearly elated with triumph as he seized the human's face firmly at the meld points and pulled their mouths together. Spock plundered McCoy's lips relentlessly, forcing them to part and give him access to the cavern behind. The doctor attempted weakly to break away but in his exhausted state he was helpless against his reflexive desire to take comfort from the gesture, no matter who the source and Spock continued to attack the human's mouth and shields with unflinching determination.

They gave slightly, an inch, then two, bit by bit and Spock was learning, uncovering valuable intelligence as McCoy's shame overpowered his failing resistance. Spock sorted through the information, gleaning its contents, and suddenly he pulled back, out of McCoy's head, away from the succulent mouth with his prize wound tightly in the threads of his own mind. Gracing the doctor with a triumphant leer, he ran a gentle thumb over the man's swollen lip. "Thank you, human."

Grabbing his knife from the table, Spock cut the strap that bound McCoy's hands and feet together and caught the doctor as he fell face-first towards the floor. Lowering him carefully, Spock left him on the floor of his chamber as he threw on his meditation robe and walked into the corridor.

Two hours later, an aura of impending victory enveloped the Vulcan as he palmed open the door to his cabin. McCoy had managed to regain enough feeling to work his legs free of their bindings and sit up but his arms were still pulled painfully taut. Kneeling beside the doctor, Spock took his chin in hand, pinching it smartly when McCoy attempted to jerk away. "If you will cooperate, Doctor, I will untie everything but your wrists."

Spock saw McCoy's inherent rebellion, his innate desire to tell the Vulcan to go to Hell written all over his face but it seemed the human had already learned a lesson in practical self-control. Swinging himself around, he allowed Spock to cut away the rest of the cloth strap and heft him up into the chair. He gasped sharply as his aching muscles screamed in protest but Spock remained silent as he picked up a jar of lightly perfumed salve and coaxed him to sprawl back in the chair, letting his arms dangle and his head fall back on the desk. As Spock rubbed the healing balm deeply into his sore muscles, McCoy's nose had twitched.

"Liniment?"

"Indeed, Doctor. It would seem that there are a surprising number of things from your planet that merit appreciation." Spock continued his ministrations, paying careful attention to McCoy's agonized quads and shoulders, "This salve is one such thing. A kiss, I believe, is another." Drifting down from the doctor's shoulder, Spock ran his hand over the length of the exposed torso before him but though McCoy flinched, he had managed to remain still. "And there is you, Dr. McCoy. I believe you will also turn out to be an object of great worth. But not just you, of course. There is your whole staff to consider, particularly your young medical assistant. What was her name again? Chapel?"

Spock leaned back on his bed and eyed McCoy appraisingly as the doctor picked his head up off the desk and glared at him with murder in his eyes. "What the hell did you do, you pointy-eared son of a bitch?"

Spock's dark look was punctuated by the tilt of a brow. "I have claimed her, Doctor."

McCoy's reaction was instantaneous, a wordless roar emanating from his body as he launched himself at the Vulcan. His legs, much too weak to support his weight, buckled instantly and he fell into Spock's waiting arms. The Vulcan used the momentum to spin gracefully and drop McCoy in a prostrate sprawl on his bed. Stretching out beside him, Spock pinned McCoy by the nape of his neck and caught his furious gaze. "I have not taken her, Doctor, if that is your concern and I have no plans to do so. Human women hold no attraction for me, Vulcan either, for that matter, save the spouse I must eventually take to beget an heir. I have simply placed her in my direct custody, under my immediate protection."

McCoy exhaled sharply, "Is she alright?"

"That, my human, depends largely on you. She was injured rather grievously in the battle and while her life functions have been sustained by our own physicians, they are still rather unfamiliar with the intricacies of human medical treatment. She would fare much better if she were seen by a human physician."

It was a beautiful thing, McCoy's surrender, so palpable and raw. The rebellious tension simply bled out of his body, the tightly fisted hands relaxing in defeat. The fire in his eyes was extinguished, simply snuffed out by the pressing sense of responsibility he felt towards his young subordinate. Releasing his hold on McCoy's neck, Spock shrugged off his robe and fiddled idly with the bonds at the doctor's wrists as he spoke.

"I believe we understand each other, human."

Twisting his head bitterly away, McCoy stared off at the far wall. "Yeah, I get it, Vulcan. But I still want to hear you say it, you fucking bastarahhhh…."

Spock's reaction was instantaneous, twisting the human's arms up painfully before he could complete the offending word. Leaning over the doctor, Spock drove a knee into the small of his back and leaned down to speak quietly into his ear. "You are actually quite correct in you assumptions, Doctor. My parents were not joined, as it would have been impossible for the clan to accept my mother, for you see, Doctor, she was a human woman, my father's _kafeh_." Leaning back, Spock reveled in the human's shocked intake of breath. "Understand, human, that I am fully recognized as a Son of the House of Surak. I have the strength of body and of mind to gain and hold my place amongst my clan. But there are many who believe that I am more inclined to be governed by the volatile emotions of a Vulcan because I have a human's control. I do not know if this is true but I strongly suggest you not test the point."

Running his hand up McCoy's side, Spock settled firmly on the human's meld points and pushed in deeply, right up to the far most remnants of the doctor's mind still barely protected by his teetering shields. It was for this that he needed the doctor's capitulation, to breach this last stronghold of independence and secure the bond. When he spoke next, it was from within the doctor's head.

"_Do not struggle against this, human. You will grow accustomed to it for it will forever be a part of you. Before this night is over, I will plant a bond in your mind. I will be able to enter your consciousness and peruse your thoughts at my discretion. Right now, you are still shielding your deepest vestiges and while I could force my way through, it would leave behind permanent damage. Instead, Doctor, I require your cooperation to relinquish the rest of your mind to me." _

Under his hands, McCoy renewed his struggles but Spock stilled him easily with a sharp tug on his wrists. "_I am aware of how abhorrent that is to you and I want you to understand that your wishes are of no consequence. This WILL happen, you are powerless to prevent it. _

_There are things that I would offer you, human. My clan has many Terran chattel who are frequently sick or injured. I have seen inside your mind, my doctor, I have seen the depths of your need to fix and heal those who suffer. I would allow you to practice your craft and care for the other Terrans but you will understand that this will be a privilege, not a right, and like all privileges, you will have to earn it."_

At that, McCoy bristled. "_How?"_

"_With the only thing you have to give. Your compliance. You are mine, human. You will be my kafeh, my bonded slave, and everything that is you will be mine to use. Your only bartering tool is to give of yourself willingly. If you do not, I will pin you down and take what is mine. But I prefer your cooperation and that you may use to your advantage. _

Swirling around in the chaotic mind, Spock was inundated by the doctor's panic and conflict and knew in that instant just how well he had baited his trap. Nothing would torture and antagonize his beautiful human more than involuntary pliancy at Spock's hands, nothing that was, except denial of his need to heal. Primal satisfaction rippled through him. Artful indeed. He had isolated the human's two greatest vulnerabilities and set them against each other, trapping his human with his own conflicting nature. He had bent his human, gracefully but firmly and now he would claim him as his prize.

Releasing the doctor's arms and face, Spock ran his hands all over the cool body with avaricious zeal. The human shuddered but made no effort to pull away. Spock smirked in satisfaction as he grabbed McCoy and pulled him roughly to his back. Leaning down over the supine form, he melded the lines of their bodies together, using his elbows to cage McCoy's head as he nipped lightly at the tempting lips that hovered right below his own. "Enough prevaricating, human, I will have your answer now."

McCoy stared up at him, his eyes alight with desperate, indecision, his mind clearly racing to find some way, any way out. He found nothing but hot, demanding black eyes that bored into him without a hint of mercy. Closing his own eyes to stave off the inevitable, he'd finally asked pleadingly, "You'll give me your word that if I stop fighting, you'll let me save Christine?"

The Vulcan grasped his chin, "Look at me, Doctor! I am Vulcan, our word is our honor, and you will be allowed to save your friend. After that, all other opportunities to administer your craft must be earned. Do you accept these terms and offer me your willing submission?"

McCoy's entire face convulsed. He held his breath and bit his lip hard, trying to will the debasing words to stay in but his own selfless tendencies finally overwhelmed his resistance. Tears of frustration stood in his eyes as he finally nodded his agreement. Smiling lightly, Spock stroked his cheek. "I need you to vocalize your answer, Doctor."McCoy's eyes flashed real hatred for a split second before he let out a pent-up breath and spit, "Fine, dammit, you pointy-eared mother…just, FINE! I will fucking submit to you. I will fucking submit. Are you satisfied now, you goddamned…"

The human ceased his tirade at the pressure of Spock's finger on his lips. Leaning down, he breathed a gentle, "That is sufficient, human," before taking McCoy's mouth in a searing, branding kiss. The livid doctor had fought his own base responses to remain unmoved but his sinking willpower had finally deserted him in the face of his own defeat and he melted under the Vulcan's lips as Spock continued to plunder and explore. Minutes or hours passed when Spock suddenly broke the kiss and flipped him back onto his stomach. Assessing hands skimmed over his back, buttocks, the flanks of his legs and warm, firm fingers probed decisively at his cleft, invading and stretching him, preparing him. Spock felt the doctor's rising panic and ran his hands over the sweat-damp flesh of the his back. "Yield to it, human. It is the way of things."

As McCoy relaxed back into the bed, Spock seized his dagger and finally freed the human's hands. Stretching the arms carefully beside McCoy's head, Spock worked the tender muscles for a moment, relieving the worst of the ache before sliding quickly off the bunk. Gazing down at the prone form below him, he allowed a moment to prepare himself, shedding his pants and shaking out the full length of his hair, the better to bathe his slave in his own scent. Grasping the doctor's ankles, Spock slid up the bed between McCoy's legs. His body was responding with urgency, a primal desire to lay its claim, as he grasped the human's hips and dragged him back and upwards to straddle his lap. McCoy's agonized thighs drew a moan and he grasped desperately over his shoulders to push Spock off but the Vulcan held him tightly, pressing his chest into the human's back until he calmed.

Nudging the doctor's cleft, Spock found the entrance still slick and loose and ready for him and he smeared several drops of the excess oil on the head of his own ready erection. Pushing up and pulling back in one fell movement, Spock methodically seated the doctor, pulling him down the length of his shaft with meticulous care. McCoy gasped and scrabbled for purchase but the Vulcan's hold was true and the doctor was left with no option but to adjust to the invading length inside of him.

Reaching a hand over the human's shoulder, Spock settled once again on the meld points and pushed into McCoy's mind. The shields still stood and a cursory examination showed that they were still firm.

"_Human, you will lower your shields."_

Across the walls, Spock felt a faint flex and rumble, but no breachable avenue appeared. In the chaotic whirling thought processes of McCoy's mind, Spock could detect confusion and a strong dose of fear emanating from the recesses of the human's thoughts.

"_McCoy?"_

"_I can't…dammit, I can't, I don't know how!"_

With an upward jerk, Spock thrust hard into the human, hitting the sensitive nub full on and causing McCoy to emit a harsh gasp. "_That is how, human."_ He added with a second thrust_, "You will concentrate on that. You will concentrate on ME inside of you, seizing you, making you mine." _Another thrust and Spock felt a definite give in the wall_, "Yes, human, you will think on that. You will allow it and accept it. You will think on your friend, Doctor,"_ and a distinctive chink formed in the barrier before him_, "You will think on your friend and how you want to save her. How to save her you must let me in." _The structure before him began to look hazy and blurred and pressure against it revealed a sludgy, moveable consistency. Satisfied, Spock drove into McCoy's body again. "_Do you feel that, Slave? I am already inside of you. Resisting it now is pointless and will only delay the aid you could give to your friend. Let me in."_

"_I can't."_

"_You can, you have, and you will continue to do so. You feel it, human, you feel your surrender."_

"_Dammit!"_

"_Damn nothing. You will cease this fighting. You will submit as you promised…"_

"_God..Jesu..I.."_

"_NOW!"_

The strength of the Vulcan's command reverberated through McCoy's mind, felling what remained of the shields like sand beneath a deluge. With the path laid bare before him, Spock leaped into the deepest recesses of the human's mind, taking no time to peruse the unique landscape as he wove the threads of his claim deep within the newly exposed psyche. There in the depth of his _kafeh, _he found light and dark, hot and cold, passion and indifference, a rich tapestry of contrast that called to him for examination. The temptation to stay was great but his claim was not yet complete and he had years to come to seek out and explore each facet. Pulling back, he hovered around the periphery of the human's mind and called out.

"_Kafeh!"_

The pull of the bond through the meld was nearly overwhelming and his slave's unwitting response echoed in his mind. _"Trensu?"_

The word been beautiful in his human's voice._ "You are learning quickly, my Kafeh. What do you call me?"_

Even in his mind, the human's voice was awash with despair but the answer tore itself from his mind at Spock's request. "_I call you…Master."_

"_Good, my Kafeh. You will call me nothing else. And when I command you, Kafeh, what do you do?"_

"_I…dammit…I…"_

"_WHAT DO YOU DO?"_

"_I…obey…I obey."_

"_Good, Kafeh, then you will obey me now when I tell you to enjoy this!"_

Without warning, Spock pushed the human onto his hands and knees, working his body with sharp deliberate strokes. McCoy collapsed onto his elbows, rolling his head against the mattress as his body was overwhelmed by the circular sensations of his own arousal and Spock's blending through the bond. The Vulcan shuddered, his control nearly lost as his _kafeh's _fullness and his own intense friction combined and assaulted their mutual senses. Beneath him, McCoy panted against the bed and as Spock watched, one of the human's hands slid beneath his body.

Primal rage erupted through the Vulcan and he seized McCoy's arms, pinning the hands behind the human's neck as he increased the tempo of his thrusts. _"KAFEH, to whom do you belong?"_

His humanwas nearly mindless under the assault of their joint responses but he managed to gasp, "_You, Trensu, I belong to you."_

"_Yes, Kafeh, you belong to me. No one else will touch your flesh but me. You will not give yourself pleasure, you will not ask me to give you pleasure. You will receive it only when it is MY pleasure to make the offer. Is that understood?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Yes, WHAT?"_

"_Trensu, yes, Trensu."_

Pinning his kafeh's hands firmly, Spock finally gave over to his own barbaric need to lay claim. Thrusting wildly, he basked in the overpowering sensations of their mutual pleasure, rubbing and caressing every inch of skin as he pressed deeper and deeper into the unresisting body beneath him. Exercising the bond, he held his beautiful human on the peak of fulfillment, exalting in his desperate moans and pliant acceptance.

His body had become electrified and his own climax was demandingly imminent. Rolling his hips hard against the human's delicious skin, he reached down and carefully palmed his slave'sweeping cock as he whispered a command across the thrumming bond, "_Take your pleasure, Kafeh…NOW!"_

His slave came with near agonizing intensity, crying out his pleasure from beneath his pinned hands writhing and grinding back on Spock's willing dick. Biting down hard on his own flagging control, Spock rode out the waves of his _kafeh's _completion, thrusting once, twice more into the supple body until he was summarily overwhelmed by his own forceful need for release. Gasping with abandon through the spasm of a heart stopping orgasm, his vaunted Vulcan strength had simply been sucked out by the electric sensations of his cock buried in the beautifully responsive body and he sagged against his _kafeh's_ moist skin, bearing them both down to the mattress to pant in a tangled heap against the bed.

Worth, his father had said. Here was worth. This human would indeed prove to be his fascination. Pushing himself up, Spock began to forcefully nuzzle the limp form beneath him, lolling over every inch. His _kafeh_ protested weakly when he had flipped him over and pressed the length of their bodies close, rutting hard against the sensitized skin as the human moaned. He worked methodically, kissing, licking, suckling, rubbing his skin and hair over every inch, lapping up his _kafeh's_ unique essence and bathing him in his own.

Pulling reluctantly away, Spock knelt back over his _kafeh's _sprawled form and ran his hands through his hair, pulling it over his shoulder to hang down his chest. Inhaling the thick, ebony locks, he found the delicious scent of his human all over him and emitted a deep, rumbling growl of triumphant satisfaction. He would wear this heady scent with triumphantly, publicizing his claim before a proud and envious clan.

Glancing down, Spock took note of his _kafeh_ staring up at him, his dazed, hazel eyes wide as he took in the overpowering alien aroma that decorated his entire body. A powerful need to touch seized the Vulcan and he stretched his body out atop that of his entrancing acquisition. Threading his arm beneath his _kafeh's _neck, Spock pulled their mouths together, stealing the man's breath in a long ravaging kiss. No longer able to resist the pull of Spock's command, the human simply melted into him, pressing back with equal fervor as he wrapped his arms around the Vulcan's waist and pulled their bodies flush.

"_Who am I, Kafeh?" _

"_You are Trensu."_

"_And who are you?"_

"_I am yours."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Paramount owns Star Trek**

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When his chamber door slid open, the timepiece on the desk indicated that his obedient _kasemano _had returned eighteen point four minutes earlier than commanded. Seated at his desk, Spock took pride in his slave's submission as the human knelt silently at his feet and pressed a cheek against his thigh. Though his eyes remained on the document in front of him, Spock reached down and gently stroked his _kafeh's_ hair, carding his fingers through the brown locks cropped close in the style of a slave. Spock knew the hair should be kept short, that McCoy would never be afforded that outward display of wisdom, experience, and prowess in battle but sometimes, in moments of weakness he could barely acknowledge, he desired to run his hands through a length of chestnut locks that accurately bespoke of the courage and intelligence he had discovered in this simple human, to display to others the virtue of his possession. But that was foolishness, dangerous even to think. Were Sarek ever to find those thoughts in Spock's mind, he would be within his right as head of their clan to demand inches off his son's own untouched mane in payment.

Or perhaps not.

It was his father, after all, who had taught him of the satisfaction to be gained from a Terran, who had willingly claimed a Terran half-breed as son. Sarek kept his mind carefully guarded but Spock was still certain that of all his clansmen, Sarek understood what he felt.

It was difficult to explain, even to himself, how this trophy of conquest had managed to snare such a position of esteem in his _trensu's_ eyes. But Spock no longer allowed himself to be deluded. He had spent three years now watching this human, had seen and experienced the depths of the man's selflessness and empathy. He had found comfort and repose in the rich, intriguing dimensions of his _kafeh's _mind and he firmly believed that were any of his clan to experience even a taste of his possession, they too would pronounce his value. Of course, the very laws that governed clan hierarchy would prevent such a disclosure, since laying hands on a bonded _kafeh_ was tantamount to direct challenge. Spock was intimately acquainted with this standard.

He had fought for McCoy once before.

*

During the two years since Spock had returned to his home planet with his slave, he and McCoy had fallen into a satisfying and well established rhythm. The doctor had continued to prove himself a most rewarding acquisition. Spock had been aware of the physical attraction he felt towards his human but he had been awed and perplexed to discover the depths to which their mental compatibility ran. He took full advantage of the unique landscape of his _kafeh's _mind, appreciating the raw, acerbic, biting wit, the intelligence, the compassion, the very _humanness_ of McCoy. He explored it, reveled in it, used as a retreat from the staunch configuration of the clan. In the refuge of his human's thoughts, Spock found an outlet in which to investigate his own latent humanity and although McCoy would never admit it, the doctor in him couldn't help acquiesce to Spock's _healthy_ exploration.

He was content, had found this contentment in the company of a human slave and he knelt humbly before the wisdom of his father, grateful for the unique knowledge he had bestowed on his son for as the years passed, Spock found it harder and harder to imagine a life without his _kafeh_.

It had not been, of course, a singularly ideal situation, as a man of the doctor's tempestuous extremes would inevitably find ways to generate conflict. Through the bond, Spock had the ability to control the human completely, to bend him to his every whim, but he found he took no joy in McCoy's utter domination. He did not want a soulless puppet; he wanted his human in all his vibrancy, giving, fearless, and exceptionally stubborn. McCoy's autonomy, however, also provided him with opportunities to make poor choices.

In the clan, the mightiest was the master and to each warrior fell the obligation to earn and hold their position through displays of power. Violent confrontation was a part of daily life and Sarek of Vulcan held the clan seat with a well-blooded and iron fist. The full length of his hair was a testament to his prowess for in his one hundred and twenty-seven years, no other warrior had ever claimed an inch of it in victory. But Sarek's greatest source of pride was not in his own unfettered mane but that of his half-Terran son who had battled his way through dozens of challengers thought worthier in their so called purity to emerge as the dominant young warrior of the clan, his hair untouched since the day of his birth.

Spock knew he was exceptional in mind, body and soul, possessing a subjugated but ever present core that represented the very best of humanity. His own father had taught Spock to feel pride in his unique heritage but nevertheless, Sarek was no fool. He made sure his son realized that while he might view him as a rare gem, many other's would never seen him as anything but inferior and would attempt again and again to throw the half-breed down. Despite their best efforts, Spock had proved to be stubbornly impossible to defeat.

There was, however, a new hand to be played against him.

His human physician was truly special; beautiful, intelligent, courageous and kind and as he navigated the clan compound on his daily medical rounds, he couldn't help but draw the envious, lustful eyes of his _trensu's_ fellow warriors.

A day had come when Sarek called his son to his side for a discussion of clan affairs, during which times it fell to Spock to act as both senior advisor and diligent student. His _kafeh_ had already secured the privilege of treating his patients for the day and was preparing to leave for his rounds when Sarek's messenger arrived with his directive.

Laying aside his PADD, Spock gestured towards his human. "My business with my father this afternoon will likely involve a rather deep meld. Do not be surprised if you cannot sense me across our bond, _kafeh_, for I will be required to block it." Gathering his supplies, McCoy had nodded absently, his mind already consumed by the many needs of his human patients. Dropping to his knees, the human pressed an obedient kiss to his _trensu's _thigh before heading out the door.

Setting his own work aside for the moment, Spock rose to answer Sarek's summons.

The day was cool for Vulcan and the doors of his father's chambers were thrown open to take full advantage of the gentle breeze wafting across the sands. Sarek was within, a picture of contentment as he gazed out across the desert, gesturing Spock over with a casual ease. Taking the three steps to the veranda, Spock came to a halt and caught his father's eyes across the prone figure of Sarek's golden _kafeh_ , lying spread eagle on the wooden table between them. At the slightly playful quirk of his elder's brow, Spock allowed himself to take in the sight laid out before him.

The human was not bound, as Spock had originally suspected. His arms and legs were stretched away from his body and held by nothing but the strength of Sarek's exceptional will. The rose gold skin was glowing under a thin sheen of perspiration that shimmered with each tiny tremor of the muscle beneath. He was fully erect, the dark head of his shaft leaking beautifully across the planes of his stomach and his head lolled gently from side to side as delicate pants and gasps hissed from his lips. He was delicious to behold and Spock felt another stab of paternal pride. His father had also made a precious selection.

Pulling his eyes away, he met Sarek's amused gaze. "Plah-sai extract?"

"Of course. It has such a stimulating effect on their nervous systems. It was a simple matter to apply the oil and lay him out. The breeze accomplishes the rest."

"Punishment?"

"No," Sarek murmured indulgently, eyes dark and heavy as he skimmed his hands over the hyper-sensitive skin. A throaty moan slipped between the plush lips and Sarek pressed a thumb to them, allowing the human to tongue and suckle the appendage frantically. "No, my son, this is purely an exercise for my pleasure. And it will be his pleasure, too.

But enough prevaricating, "he suddenly said, pulling back his hand and shaking off his serene disposition. "We have business to discuss."

They had held council for several hours and as he returned to his chambers, Spock was admittedly weary. He returned to his rooms wanting nothing but a slight repast and the solace of his _kafeh's _body and mind. But as he entered his chamber, he was suddenly inundated by the waves of distress rolling off of his human and thrumming across the channels of their reigniting bond.

McCoy was kneeling beside Spock's chair, his eyes closed and his expression grim. As Spock stalked towards him, he opened his eyes but kept them rooted submissively to the floor. Coming to a halt some twenty feet away, Spock demanded, "You do not meet my gaze, _kafeh._ What have you done to make you so ashamed?"

McCoy's eyes slid shut again as an air of resignation washed over him. Swallowing deeply, he forced his head up and said simply. "I disobeyed. I treated the injury of one of your clansmen."

A burning knot began to form in Spock's chest at his human's admission, a knot made up of equal parts suspicion and rage. There were many rules between Spock and his _kafeh_ but one was absolutely inviolable; McCoy was never, _never_ to touch or be touched by another member of the clan.

He had been under the mistaken impression that his human understood the stakes. Each morning, before he allowed McCoy to escape from the nest of their bed, he would thoroughly and liberally coat him with his scent, loudly proclaiming his ownership to any who would dare question it. Among the warriors of the clan, there was an unspoken law that to lay hands upon another's _kafeh_ would mean only one thing.

_Challenge._

Striding forward with a look of raven death in his eyes, Spock snared the human by the robe at his nape and hauled him roughly to his feet. Grasping McCoy by the hair, Spock bared the lines of his throat and inhaled deeply.

And the bubble of rage that had been building in his chest exploded.

With a vicious twist, Spock rent the thin cloth of his slave's tunic before sending him sprawling across the hard stone floor. A dark, piercing growl was rumbling out of him as he stalked towards the human, seizing a leather thong and binding McCoy's hands behind his back. Hefting the helpless man onto his shoulder, he ripped his clan lirpah off the wall and strode into the courtyard.

A small crowd of seasoned warriors had already gathered, Spock's chief antagonists among them, to witness the inevitable combat but Spock had eyes for only one. He had known instantly, before he had even smelled the fetid odor of lust and claim that polluted his _kafeh_. Staring down his challenger in the middle of the sand packed yard, Spock paced forward with molten aggression and dumped the bound human at his rival's feet.

Stonn.

A warrior in name only, one who was willing to ride the tail of other's victory and wallow in the scraps of his clansmen's glory. One who thought the purity of his blood granted him entitlements over Sarek's son. The man was positively noxious in his arrogance as he observed Spock with an air of detached superiority.

He would learn here and now that the half-breed son of Sarek was not to be baited lightly.

Fixing the offending challenger with a razor glare, Spock stated simply, "You have laid hands upon my _kafeh_. "

Stonn swaggered forward with unearned bravado, his voice filled with mocking contempt as he replied, "Indeed. I received a deep incision on my arm while sparring and, regarding your human's medical knowledge, I considered it prudent to have him heal me." Meeting Spock's gaze, he curled his lips maliciously, "He was quite thorough."

It was a graceless technique, weak and simple, designed to fuel Spock's rage and compromise his volatile emotions. He knew well the inner workings of Stonn's mind, for so simple a mind was not difficult to grasp. Stonn believed him an easy target, believed that Spock's humanity would leave him vulnerable in the throngs of an emotional display.

His arrogance would be his undoing.

With barely a glance of disdainful acknowledgement, Spock took up his lirpah and stalked away towards the challenge ground, leaving an outraged Stonn to trail in his path. Across the bond, he could feel the understanding and panic that flared from his human but he clamped down upon it mercilessly. He would allow no influence, not intervention and would offer no comfort. His _kafeh_ had wronged him, had put him in this position, and he would receive nothing from his _trensu_ unless he managed to earn forgiveness.

Spock stalked to the center of the challenge ground as warriors drew near to gather around the periphery. Their stance was silent and restrained but Spock could smell the rippling, tumultuous emotions. He had enemies here, quite a few it appeared, who would like nothing more than to see the half-human son of Sarek fall. But there were friends here, too, brothers in arms who respected him for the place he had rightfully earned. And there was the silent but fierce support of his father.

He did not turn. It was unnecessary, for as sure as he knew Stonn was a worthless coward, he knew he would think nothing of attacking a man's back. He stilled his breath, every nuance of his concentration attuned, listening, waiting for the hissing whistle of a blade cutting through air. He heard it to the left…ducked…rolled…swung…connected with cruel, devastating precision.

There had been no real chance, not after the first substantial impact that shattered Stonn's leg and left him virtually helpless but Spock would not be satisfied by the mere defeat of a rival. He craved annihilation. Leaping into his rage, he writhed and gloried in the feel of it as he systematically took the other Vulcan apart beneath his blade, long shallow cuts weakening and humiliating as he slowly, deliberately, and publicly wore him down. Over and over he slammed his enemy into the dirt of the challenge ground, struck him, dragged him, rolled him like helpless prey under the guise of a controlled expression and eyes that seemed to bleed death. A bone crushing blow from the left, a sharp jab from the right and Stonn's weapon was wrenched from his hands and sent clattering in a spray of emerald blood across the yard as its owner collapsed in helpless defeat under the merciless talents of his half-breed clansman.

Stonn was bleeding, broken and barely coherent as Spock seized him by the full length of his hair and dragged him to his knees. Wearing an expression of vicious satisfaction, Spock whipped his clan dagger from his boot and wound the long black strands taught around his wrist. He had just forced Stonn's head back and set the blade to his brow when one word uttered in a startling baritone thundered across the yard and broke through his murderous trance.

"_Spock!"_

It was perhaps the only sound in the world that could have stopped him, the deep alpha command of his father rending his bloodlust as he hovered on the precipice of his rival's complete destruction. Reality fractured and with it a discomfiting sense of frustration as he finally realized what he had almost done. Inches were due to him. He had been challenged by a rival and beaten him soundly and as such Stonn owed him an allotment of his hair in payment for the insult. It would be a heavy price, too, a full ten inches for the audacity of touching a clansmen's bonded _kafeh_. But mere inches were not what he'd wanted, not what he'd been determined to take. No, he had intended to shave Stonn bald, to take his entire length of hair, to take his entire _life_, and leave him shorn and at the non-existent mercy of the clan. Such an action would certainly have resulted in Stonn's death. Amongst their clan, though, there was only one insult so grievous as to deserve such a fate; _kal-if-fee_, the challenge for a mate.

And yet the temptation to act, to claim the full measure of what he felt he was owed was almost overpowering. Who were these men around him to determine the worth of his _kafeh_? Who even was his father to deny him a punitive measure of his own determination? A volatile war of indecision raged within him as he continued to pull the long hair until a lone, warm hand gently traced its way up his cheek to rest on his meld points.

"_My Son?"_

"_Father?"_

"_He is worth this, my son, this human of yours?"_

"_Perhaps!"_

"_Indeed? Then perhaps he is the one actually worthy of your discipline, not this vile creature here."_

Spock met his father's eyes, the wisdom and truth of his elder's words gliding over him soothingly. Stonn had proved himself unworthy and Spock would not allow himself to breach clan protocol over such a man. He would not be seen as compromised in the eyes of his fellow warriors. Dragging his rival face first into the ground, Spock set his dagger and tore through the final ten inches of his hair, casting the shorn locks into the dirt at his feet as a final display of superiority. Without another word, he turned and stalked from the challenge ground, eyes fixed on his prey, the bound human who still lay sprawled in the yard, his eyes a heady mix of panic and relief.

Spock said not a word as he snatched McCoy up and flung him roughly over his shoulder. He remained silent as he kicked open the door to his chamber and strode into his opulent bathroom. Dropping the human in an inelegant heap in his small tub, he mercilessly stripped away the last shreds of McCoy's tattered tunic and cut through the bonds at his wrists. Flipping open the rarely used taps, he allowed precious water to flow into the tub and over the polluted skin of his slave. It was a necessary extravagance, for mere sonics would not succeed in stripping away Stonn's taint. Grasping a cloth, he pulled McCoy to his knees, yanking them face to face, and wordlessly began to scrub.

He was ruthlessly meticulous, scouring the human's entire body, buffing and chafing away any vestige of alien scent. He left no fold or crevice untouched, scrubbing viciously as skin turned red and tender under his ministrations. Finally satisfied, he doused McCoy with a splash of cold water and hauled him from the tub. Holding him at a distance with one hand in his hair, Spock inhaled deeply of the human, searching for any trace of the offending scent of another Vulcan. Finding nothing but McCoy's own personal aroma, Spock grunted in satisfaction and let the other man tumble roughly to the ground as he strode silently away to fling himself onto the chaise in his main chamber.

He could feel the tension around the edge of his mind, the subtle probing as his _kafeh_ felt along the impenetrable walls he had erected across their bond but Spock was in no mood to be generous. As his human crept quietly into the room and knelt submissively at his side, Spock offered no words of instruction or hint of his intention. Directionless for the first time in two years, McCoy sat in muted panic at his _trensu's _feet.

A weaker man would have caved beneath the onslaught of fury that pulsated off of the Vulcan but Spock might have known that even in the face of such tumultuous rage, Leonard McCoy was not one to sit idly by. Lowering his head, the human pressed his lips to the elegant bare feet that rested on the floor, pressing his forehead to them and nuzzling lightly as he waited. Despite his anger, Spock still found the action inordinately pleasing, the simple submissiveness managing to permeate the edges of his rage. The vaguest ripple of protective instinct threatened at his shields but he beat it ruthlessly back.

No, it would not be so easy. For all that Stonn was Vulcan, he was a base and simple creature and Spock expected no more from him than what he had received. The brunt of his wrath was directed instead at the one Spock held in higher esteem, his Terran captive. Lowering his head, Spock looked down the length of his body to the human huddled at his face, his face devoid of expression and the channel of their bond firmly blocked. His voice was merciless as he demanded, "Do not play at obedience before me, human. Why are you here? What is it you want? You thought nothing of disobeying my explicit orders. You thought nothing of taking that which is mine and giving it to my enemy.

_Go_. I have removed every vestige of my ownership and blocked our bond. You are free to give yourself to whoever will have you."

With a sharp nudge of his foot, he shoved the human back. McCoy scrabbled back across the hard floor but quickly regained his purchase and rolled back up to his knees. Pushing off of the plush pillows behind him, Spock leaned forward and observed the gambit of indecision that assailed the human, each individual emotion displayed on his expressive face. The temptation to flee, the stubbornness to fight, and the bitter, bitter swallowing of pride battled for supremacy under Spock's probing glare. He watched as the doctor took a breath, watched as his hands dug tightly at the floor, watched as the human's stance morphed from lost to resolute.

Carefully, his expression a blend of determination and submission, McCoy crawled forward and laid his cheek against the Vulcan's leg. With slow, delicate strokes, he clung to the exposed thigh, pressing skin to skin, seeking and acquiring a marking scent with each caress. Emboldened by his _trensu's _complacency, the doctor rubbed his other cheek, his neck and shoulders while his eyes sought out and pleaded from his crouch on the floor.

A hot hand shot out without warning, catching the human's chin and yanking him up to his knees. With a sharp tug, Spock pulled them face to face and ran a considering glare over McCoy, who met his piercing gaze with cautious courage. For several agonizing seconds, the Vulcan held the slave captive in a web of doubt, reveling in the nerve-racked palpitations of the human's heart. It could have been ages that he held McCoy on the precipice of indecision but finally, _finally,_ the blazing hot inferno in the Vulcan's eyes dampened and he calmly raised a brow. Still grasping the human's face, he sprawled back languidly against the plush cushions of the chaise, dragging McCoy up and across his lap.

The human needed no further invitation. With single-minded purpose, he pulled himself up into the Spock's arms, pressing his bared flesh into the hot, smooth planes of muscles, sliding and rubbing against the skin as he sought out and soaked up his _trensu's_ unique essence, dousing himself in a welcome layer of ownership. Twisting around, McCoy pressed his back into Spock's chest, shimmying and writhing. Spock offered no assistance or instruction and said not a word. This was a test. If McCoy wished to remain his, he would proclaim it loudly with this show of submission. He would take his _trensu's _ownership onto himself. And the human rose to the challenge, grinding against the Vulcan's torso, wrapping his limbs around the hot form beneath him, carefully lifting his _trensu's _long hair to drape the length of it over his body. Clinging tightly, McCoy pressed soft, entreating kisses against Spock's neck and shoulders. Deep, fulminating knots of tension continued to roil within him but one hand still reached up to seek out and know the human's mind.

At the encroaching feel of the link, McCoy visibly relaxed, melting against him and clinging even tighter with his arms and legs. Rubbing his cheek in gentle circles against Spock's chest, his _kafeh_ pleaded simply across their re-opened bond.

"_Trensu? I'm yours, Trensu, only yours. Please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry and I'm yours. Always."_ As he spoke, the human continued to intersperse his words with soft kisses against the Vulcan's chest and neck, his hazel eyes large and placating.

Spock lay placidly against the cushions, but inside his blood still boiled and raged. It was Stonn who had offended, Stonn who was Vulcan, who understood the delicate balance of respect and challenge that existed between clan warriors. His _kafeh_ was a mere human, chattel to be claimed. Why then, did he feel such fury towards McCoy? Why did the behavior of this foolish thing leave him feeling betrayed?

Without warning, Spock snatched the human around the waist and fisted his hand into the short length of hair, pulling the slave's head back at a painful angle. Leaning in close to the warm, familiar skin of his _kafeh_, Spock inhaled deeply, tracing over the lines of McCoy's torso, his arms, the leaping pulse points at his throat. He breathed in the savory blend of their combined scents, seeking the anchoring sensation that he associated with his _kafeh_, always so fierce and proud and determined but still loyal, above all, loyal to him. Was that gone now, that comfort, that solid, grounding force? As the human continued to whisper his pleas across their link, Spock grasped his chin and pulled them eye to eye.

"Why?" he bit out viciously, the bass intonations of his corporeal voice harsh to McCoy's ears. The human looked uncertain, afraid even, and Spock felt again the encroaching protectiveness of the bond but fiercely beat it back. The link was open, he could speak within their minds, but he would not sully the intimacy of their bond with this inquiry. Capturing McCoy with his cold stare, he continued in a hard, implacable voice. "You claim to be mine, human, you sit before me begging me to reassert my claim, you bath yourself in my scent. You accept me as _Trensu_. If I am your master, you will answer me honestly. Why? Why, when I could have cast you aside, do you fight to stay?"

The human closed his eyes. Through their bond, Spock could sense his struggle and he found the roiling internal conflict vastly soothing. Perhaps Stonn had managed to put his hands on his clansmen's _kafeh_, to touch what was not his, but he would never touch McCoy like this, would never probe the depths of his mind and pull out his strengths and insecurities to examine like faceted jewels. No, the human was a wealth of discovery and Spock had just uncovered a new dimension to be dissected and understood. His words were like scalpels, tearing apart the pretense that lay between them. McCoy possessed motives but he did not wish to examine them closely, for to admit their existence would be to admit the truth. Spock had been content to leave it unspoken between them but as he watched McCoy battle indecision, newly aware of the human's desperate wish that these things remain unsaid, he became more resolved to drag them to the forefront.

"_Why_, slave? Why do wish to stay?"

Closing his eyes against the confession, McCoy took a deep, steadying breath. His eyes were fixed on the Vulcan's chest as he gathered his strength to hand Spock yet another piece of his soul. But his human was no coward. Lifting his head, resolve clearly written on his face, he said simply, "I trust you."

The word was so small, an insignificant syllable to the ear but a balm to the Vulcan's mind. _Trust_. It was a vulnerability, something rarely given or received even among the tightly knit bonds of the clan. It implied respect, confidence, a belief in another based on ones adherence to faith. He himself trusted few, and none completely, not even his own father. It was a harsh lesson that had been bred into him from his infancy by Sarek himself, who would strike out at him at times for no other reason than to reinforce the necessary understanding that one never knows from which direction an attack can emerge. And from what he understood of trust, it was terribly misplaced here. He had taken the human. He had _stolen_ the human, claiming his freedom and independence and even the sanctuary of his innermost thoughts. Catching McCoy's eyes with a probing glare, he demanded, "Why, human, would you trust me?"

Indecision flickered across the slave's face, so revealing in and of itself. How McCoy hated to share, hated to hand over the victories to his captor that came with every small bit of information he revealed, every new vestige of his being that Spock became aware of. But the man's face also possessed a decisive air of resignation, as if he knew already that sacrifice would be necessary in order to heal this breach. Taking a deep breath, he met the obsidian glare.

"_Trensu,_ you and your clan attacked and enslaved my whole ship. You claimed me against my will and took me away from everything I have ever known. For two years, you've continued to demand more and more of me and re-assert your claims whether I like it or not. But you've never lied to me. You've made straightforward demands and even though you've manipulated the hell out of me, you've done it with blunt honesty. When you say you'll do something, you do. When you say you'll allow me something, you do. You've given me many reasons to hate you but you've never given me a single reason not to trust you!"

McCoy had paused, studying his master's expression carefully, but the Vulcan's face remained as implacable as stone, "I've been here for two years and I've observed many things and I know that not everyone in your clan is like you. Stonn deliberately injured himself and then lied to me and used me so that he could provoke you into a fight, and you know me well enough to know how much I hate that. You have always allowed me to help my shipmates and the other Terrans of your clan. But Stonn isn't like you and I've seen enough to know that he may have used me to cause harm instead."

Pressing quick, deferential kisses against Spock's cheeks, the human said quietly, "If Stonn had won, I would've gone to your father. I would've asked him to perform Tal-Shaya because a quick death would have been better than being used as a tool or weapon. But I don't have that to fear from you and that is really the best answer I can give. I trust you because I know you."

Spock's face revealed nothing but inside his mind was reeling. His _kafeh_ spoke of Tal-Shaya, of ritualistic honor killing, rather than submission to another _trensu_. Spock struggled to conceal the pent-up emotional response the human's words roused within him for it would not do for a mere slave to know that kind of power. But he was helpless to contain it all.

As his voice leaped across the bond, his tone was almost angry, "_This concept of trust you speak of. It is emotional, Kafeh, emotional and foolish."_

McCoy shrugged, "_I'm human, Trensu. I am emotional and foolish."_

Catching his _kafeh's _chin, Spock had given a sharp, warning squeeze, "_What are you, Kafeh?"_

His human's eyes had blinked in confusion, "_I'm emotional and foo…"_ A harsh jerk of his chin stilled McCoy as Spock's eyes bored hard into him. "_WHAT ARE YOU, KAFEH?"_

A light of understanding appeared in the hazel orbs. Relaxing completely, the human allowed his body to mold against the Vulcan's skin, wrapping his arms tightly around Spock's trunk. "_Yours, Trensu, I'm yours."_

Grasping the strong thighs, Spock hefted the human's body into his arms, allowing the other man to cling shamelessly to him as he bore him back to the bed. Kneeling over his slave's supine form, Spock declared forcefully, "_You wronged me, Kafeh. You took advantage of that which I gave you and for that you must be punished._

_You are confronted now with two choices. I will take you now, and allow you to share in the sensations of our mutual climax. The price for this, however, will be the suspension of your medical privileges. For one lunar cycle, you will remain in this chamber, unable to treat or heal."_

McCoy's eyes panicked and he reared up. "_Trensu, please, I can't do that! Please, two of the women are pregnant and…" _An elegant finger down his cheek choked off his words and pressed him back flat against the bed.

"_You trust me, my Kafeh?"_

"_Yes, Trensu."_

"_Then submit to the other choice."_

"_I haven't heard the…"_

"_You will trust me."_

Staring up at the looming figure, McCoy slowly nodded his head. His understanding flickered across the bond, acknowledging the unspoken tenet that words were meaningless without actions. _"I'll submit."_

Spock offered him a perfunctory nod. _"I will take you, Kafeh, and I will use every skill I possess to increase the depth and power of your response. You will know arousal, anticipation, and the need for fulfillment. But that is all. The pleasure of your release you will gift to me to enjoy fully along with my own. Though your body will experience physical climax, I will use our bond to redirect your satisfaction. You will endure this as your sentence for one lunar cycle and I will allow you to continue your medical practices. _

Spock eyed his prone slave carefully as McCoy considered his fate. Acceptant relief flashed across the human's face and he nodded in submission as Spock had known he would. Once again he reflected on the cardinal law of his _kafeh's _every thought and action; the other's first, then himself. It was perhaps ironic that his unwavering adherence to self-sacrifice had been the catalyst for this whole conflict.

For the duration of the lunar cycle, Spock inflicted his punishment upon his willing penitent, taking the doctor with copious and original abandon, inflicting all manner of sensual stimulation but stealing all satisfaction for himself. He felt his human's responses, sensed his exhaustion and need through the bond, but McCoy bore it stoically, gratefully and though he was loath to admit it, Spock delighted in that gratitude, in his _kafeh's_ diligent pursuit of his good graces.

On the final night, as the clock ran down on his human's sentence, Spock sprawled atop the trembling man, working his body to heightened levels of sensation. Beneath him, McCoy writhed miserably but accepted it as payment due. But as the rising crest of climax finally rushed over him, Spock seized all his sensations and pushed, thrusting the full weight of his fulfillment onto the aching human beneath him. McCoy's unsuspecting body convulsed beneath the onslaught, hands clenching furiously against the bed clothes, feet struggling for purchase on the slippery red silk. His back arched deliciously as his mouth fell open, screaming his pleasure silently into the hot air. Finally, panting, gasping and completely spent, the human sank boneless against the bed, eyes searching out Spock's with glazed gratitude as the strength of his release sent him spiraling into unconsciousness.

Kneeling over the utterly satiated form of his human, Spock ran a hand down the slack, serene face and caressed the plush mouth. For the first time in a month, he leaned in and pressed a kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This story was originally intended to be a quick reprieve from another WIP and it just exploded into its own little monster. Alas, the time has come for me to put this baby to bed and get back to work on my other story. However, to everyone who wrote to me and commented about directions this world could take, I may some day write a sequel, if people have an interest in reading it. Until then, Peace!

Oh, yeah, and Paramount own Star Trek and all that jazz.

* * *

As his human knelt quietly at his feet, Spock continued to peruse his work, letting his hand drift absently over the neck and back of his _kafeh_ as the final eighteen minutes of McCoy's punishment ticked away. Hot, viscous need was leaking through the bond as his fingers traced over the human's skull, skirting the rounded line of his ears and …_three minutes…two minutes…one minute_…coming to rest upon the meld points.

"_You were successful in your endeavors, Kafeh? The vaccinations are complete?"_

"_Yes, Trensu." _Lifting his forehead off Spock's thigh, McCoy starred up at him, his face a familiar blend of stubborn frustration and hope. The Vulcan preened inwardly, stroking a thumb across the human's lips with possessive satisfaction.

"_You have desires, Kafeh. Tell me."_

The human's instinctive resistance was perfunctory and short. _"I want to please you, Trensu. I left you unsatisfied and I want to fix it."_ Pulling his eyes away, McCoy lowered his head back down to the Vulcan's leg.

The sudden and involuntary tension that coursed through him at the human's words was minute and nearly imperceptible but Spock himself was aware at it and marveled at its root. Each additional offer of subservience and submission affected him profoundly and toyed with his control. It was dangerous to be so influenced but in the face of his human's prickly and hard won compliance, he found that he simply did not care. Sprawling back languidly in his chair, he gently grasped McCoy's face and lifted it to meet his eyes.

"_Show yourself to me, Kafeh."_

The human did not hesitate but quickly shrugged off his robe and sat back on his heels, resting his hands lightly on his knees. Spock allowed his eyes to run over the rangy form with interest, noting the sweat streaked and fully erect state of his possession. And still McCoy said nothing, eyes fixed on the floor as he awaited his next instruction. To the casual observer, he might appear servile, even broken, but Spock knew him better, knew that Leonard McCoy was both tough and strong, emotional and cantankerous, but above all he was a servant to the good of others and a man of honor. He would kneel and see to his _trensu's _needs with willing enthusiasm simply because he had given his word.

Spock found this quality to be highly arousing.

At the slight crook of his finger, McCoy crawled forward, sliding in between Spock's sprawled legs. He loosened the intricate clasps on the Vulcan's robe and carefully folded it back, running his hands lightly up and down his master's flanks. Looking up, his gaze met Spock's across the long lines of the Vulcan's body and for the barest second a hint of desire, raw and real, threatened to break through the carefully erected walls of duty and repayment. It was fleeting, but Spock saw it clearly a moment before McCoy broke eye contact to take him fully in his mouth.

Vulcan's and humans were creatures of indulgence, and Spock had inherited a healthy share from both sides. Sinking back lazily, he cradled the back of his _kafeh's _skull with one hand, rubbing with gentle, encouraging strokes as he thrust up gently into the warm cavern. His human was precise by nature, and he performed the fine Terran art of fellatio with the same methodical perfection as he would a complex surgery; with deliberate and exquisite attention to detail. He pulled back and lapped gently at the sensitive head, scraping lightly with his teeth before dragging his tongue up and down the full length of the shaft. Closing his eyes, Spock allowed himself a moment to luxuriate in the sensations under his doctor's exceptional mouth and hands.

The doctor's ministrations were dedicated and skilled, and Spock felt the temptation to give in to his talented touch. It would be satisfying, of that he had no doubt, but the satisfaction would be physical, singular, and fleeting. His _kafeh_ had pleased him. He deserved a reward, and Spock could not deny that McCoy's determined acts of compliance no longer gave him the ultimate satisfaction they once had. They were pleasurable on occasion, their earlier interlude being a prime example, but as time passed, Spock found that his ultimate enjoyment came through reciprocity, through mutual give and take. He wanted his human to want him.

With a light caress, Spock slid his fingers across a cheek and took hold of his human's chin with an easy but firm grip. McCoy's startled eyes flew up to meet his as he pushed the warm mouth off his body and rubbed a thumb appreciatively over the slightly swollen lips. And he stared, indulgently, letting his fingers run over the human's features, the gently curving cheekbones, proud nose, and perfect lips. The doctor continued to observe him warily and Spock found that this hesitation bothered him, that he suddenly needed the human to feel nothing but security in his arms. And why not? McCoy was his. He had as much right to take pleasure in his slave's comfort as he did in his pain.

Sliding his hand to the back of McCoy's neck, he pulled the human up his body, straddling him across his lap. McCoy came willingly, his expression confused but compliant, but Spock could still sense the residual hesitation through the bond. Wrapping an arm around the small of McCoy's back, he pulled the human close, lips hovering inches apart, and felt a beautiful jolt of hopeful anticipation surge across their link. Yes, this was more to his liking, his human's need infused with genuine want. Staring deeply, probingly into McCoy's eyes, he spoke through the bond.

"_You please me."_

He watched as McCoy weighed his reply. "_I try, Trensu."_

"_You succeed. And it is my pleasure to pleasure you. What would you have from me?"_

The human tensed at the request and Spock could sense his hesitation. Pulling McCoy flush against him, he rubbed gently over the man's back as he asked again, "_What, Kafeh? What would you have from me?"_

He was unsurprised by the press of lips against his own, tentative at first, then more demanding as he responded in kind. The human's hands found his chest, running up slowly to coil around his neck as he exacted gentle pressure against the Vulcan's mouth. He wanted more, Spock knew, but knew better than to ask. Pulling his head back suddenly, Spock caught the doctor's eyes.

"_You wish for more, my Kafeh?_

"_Yes, Trensu."_

"_But you will not ask."_

"_I can't."_

"_And if I choose to give it to you?"_

The human's eyes glowed. "_Then I would be grateful."_

Spock smiled. _"Kiss me, Kafeh. Take what you want from me."_

It took the doctor a moment's consideration to decide that the gift he was being offered was legitimate. Leaning in closely, he pressed his body firmly against the Vulcan's and whispered aloud, "Let me please you. I need to please you."

"Then please us together," he replied, cradling the human's head and plying his lips with a warm tongue.

Warm hands were running down the length of his torso as his _kafeh_ met his heated kiss. Looping an arm around the Vulcan's neck, McCoy reached down into the medical bag he had abandoned next to the chair, pulling Spock with him and holding their mouth's flush even as he withdrew something from his satchel and sat back up. Finally pulling his lips away, he distracted the Vulcan with feather light nips along his jaw line as his hands busied themselves out of sight.

A Vulcan was _always_ in control, or perhaps it merely required a human to surprise them. A genuine gasp escaped Spock's mouth as McCoy's hands, slick with the warm, healing salve of the human's own invention, wrapped around the length of his still throbbing shaft and began caressing him with perfect, even strokes. Then, the human's lips were back on his, and he was reaching to encase his own weeping erection, pressing them together in the circle of a surgeon's sure hands, the slick salve heating as they slid easily against each other.

Spock rested his head against the back of his chair as fiery bursts of pure pleasure rippled over and under his skin. The sensations were delicious but altogether too physical for his satisfaction. He had a sudden and intense desire to hold and be held.

Wrapping an arm around his _kafeh's_ back, he pulled the human closer and reached between their bodies, flicking one of McCoy's hands away and replacing it with his own. He linked their fingers together, his own hand becoming slick with salve as the human's free arm slipped back around the base of his neck and clung. Holding tightly to each other, they began to thrust in perfect tandem

His disciplines had been pressed to their limits, and he could feel them beginning to fray. Throwing back his head, Spock allowed the small sounds of his pleasure to intermix with the desperate, panting moans his human was making against his shoulder and throat. A tense knot of pleasure was coiling in his belly as his long delayed climax began to crest, and he reached up to seize the human firmly at the base of his skull. Pulling a rounded ear to his lips, he whispered fiercely, "_Come."_

The force of his human's orgasm poured over him through the bond, pushing him hard over the edge and into his own release. He bucked and thrust against the other man, riding out each wave of satisfaction as helpless, ecstatic moans tumbled from McCoy's mouth. It was electric and intense, flooding every part of him with pure pleasure, rebounding off his writhing _kafeh _only to spiral back again. Finally, sated and spent, he collapsed back against the chair, wrapping his arms around the gasping, trembling, satisfied form that sprawled limply against his chest.

Moments past as his human slowly regained his breath. Finally looking up, McCoy pleaded with his eyes and Spock nodded his permission for the human to offer his gratitude in a passionate kiss. It was pleasurable in its own sense, immensely so, and Spock felt no compulsion to end it, but his fastidious _kasemano_ suddenly pulled his lips away, reaching down to grasp a cloth from his satchel and clean them both thoroughly. Finally, sliding back to the floor, he laid his head once again against Spock's thigh.

"_Are you pleased, Trensu?"_

Spock merely raised a brow.

*

They took dinner in their chamber that night, comfortably dressed and reclining at the intimate table for two the Vulcan kept in his quarters. As they ate, Spock questioned his doctor about his medical rounds, enjoying the way the timber of the man's voice deepened and the subtle accent became more pronounced in his passionate description of his Terran charges. McCoy was a man of deep sentiments and Spock so enjoyed the way the human's careful restraint could crumble beneath his emotional responses.

The doctor's voice had stirred a need in him again, but he maintained his sense of discipline for his responsibilities must come first. His human, too, would want to spend time with his own files, meticulously registering and documenting each of his new patients. McCoy's gifts as a healer were unquestionable, his treatment style a harmonious blend of creative ingenuity and shear logic. He took brilliantly conceived risks that seemed to heal the unhealable and then recorded them in minute detail, dissecting and studying his choices with precision. Spock found this process fascinating and always allotted the doctor free time to work with his files. His clan's Terran slaves were fortunate to be under this man's care. Finishing their meal, they parted towards their respective tasks, working in easy, companionable silence.

Several hours later, Spock finished his final report and forwarded it to his father. Glancing across the room to the desk he had given to his _kafeh_ more than two years ago, he watched the other man, enjoying the sight of the skilled mind at work. His desire for his slave was building but he had no intention of interrupting McCoy until he was finished. He would be satisfied with nothing less than the human's full and willing attention, even if it meant exercising some patience. Satisfied with his course of action, he left his desk and picked up his lute.

McCoy's eyes flew to him at the first note but he shook his lightly, signaling that he should finish his task. Then he lost himself in his music, playing through the songs of his ancestors, becoming oblivious to his surroundings through the soft, soothing trill of his harp. An hour had slipped by when he glanced back towards McCoy' desk and found it empty, the lamp dark and the files neatly stored away. Looking down to his left, he found the human seated at his feet, leaning against the side of his chair and taking in the calming sounds. At the sight of him a spark of self-recrimination ripped through Spock for a Vulcan warrior should never be so unaware of his environment. It was the doctor's presence, he mused, that allowed him that sense of comfort. Trust, it would seem, was not merely one-sided.

Considering this, he set the lute aside and reclined back in his chair, reaching a hand down to run his fingers over his _kafeh's _cheek and idly thumb his mouth. He felt the warm, light touch of the human's tongue and nearly smiled in spite of himself. It would appear that their minds were leading them in the same direction. Skimming lightly over the meld points, he asked, "_Have you finished your work for the evening? I will tolerate no distractions."_

The human nodded, rolling onto his knees and leaning into Spock's side. _"I've finished, Trensu. Thank you. I promise you'll have all my attention."_

Spock nodded. A grateful McCoy was a giving and cooperative McCoy, and nothing less than honest willingness would satisfy him this night. He wanted to be touched, to let loose all the restraints he placed upon his human, to allow the slave the rare opportunity to fully master his own actions. Rising to his feet, he pulled McCoy up in front of him and ran a finger delicately over the smooth skin at the base of the human's throat. It was soft and inviting and he leaned in to taste it, feeling McCoy shudder as the smooth skin was lightly abraded by his rough tongue. Drifting up and over the human's neck with small kisses, he quickly worked open the lacing of the McCoy's tunic and lifting the encroaching garment off and away. Running his hands over the human's hips, he stripped off the lightweight slacks and dropped them to the floor, leaving the man bare to his roving eyes and wandering hands.

Stepping back for a moment, he allowed himself to take in the sight. He had possessed McCoy for three years and yet this body still enthralled him, just as it had the first night he had held the human beneath him and branded him _kafeh_. He knew the sight, scent, and taste of every inch of the man's skin, knew what to touch, what to stroke, nip, lick, and caress to elicit the desired responses. Sliding behind the human and molding himself against his spine, he let his fingertips roam over the warm skin of his belly and taut planes of his chest to tweak lightly at the sensitive nipples.

McCoy tensed in his arms, catching his hitching breath in his throat, seeking to control any impermissible responses, and Spock felt a pang of dissatisfaction ripple through him. His _kafeh_ had been well trained beneath his own hand but at that moment he took no pride in it. No, he wanted, _needed_, his human's natural responses. Pulling McCoy tightly against him, he nuzzled at the man's neck, sharing his thoughts in a soothing tone.

"_Tonight, Kafeh, I would find it satisfying to know your mind."_

The human tensed in his arms, wary indecision coloring his thoughts. Pulling back slightly, he glanced over his shoulder and met the Vulcan's eyes. "_Trensu, my mind is always yours. You know this even better than I do."_

"_You misunderstand. I do not wish to sift through your thoughts._" Turning the doctor around by the waist, Spock carefully navigated them towards their bed, his feet nudging McCoy's backward in systematic retreat as he calmed his _kafeh's_ agitated mind with tender nips and kisses along his shoulders. As his human's legs brushed the red sheets, he tumbled them downward, taking the other man's mouth as he rolled them to the middle of the bed and sprawled loosely on his back. He stroked McCoy's hips as the human straddled his waist, staring down in bewilderment. Reaching up, he let his fingers drift over the beautifully sculpted features of the doctor's face as he spoke.

"_Kafeh, I place no restrictions on you tonight. I give you full control over your body and your actions. You are free to give and receive pleasure in whatever way you choose."_

The human's expression was fathomless, a gambit of conflicting emotion flashing in the too expressive eyes only to bury themselves in control mastered through necessity. Hovering above him, McCoy mouthed a barely whispered, "thank you," but the human's tumultuous emotional condition didn't appear to contain any genuine gratitude. Rather, Spock tasted the faintest trace of resentment from the doctor and he marveled at the unexpected sensation even as McCoy skimmed his hands over the planes of his chest and leaned in to nibble down the length of his throat.

Without warning, the doctor pulled back, staring down at him with an unreadable expression on his face. He said nothing, revealed nothing across their bond, but the expression on his face seemed vaguely considering. Pushing up onto his elbows, Spock glared back, raising one brow in mock challenge.

The doctor's reaction was immediate, breaking eye contact to work his way down the length of Spock's body with tongue and teeth but despite the human's skilled ministrations, Spock found his attention wandering. There had been a jolt across the bond and a faint glint in the human's eye at his inquiry, as if a carefully concealed but festering wound had somehow been probed. Examining the situation carefully, Spock considered a possible explanation. Was his human dissatisfied with this arrangement?

It was difficult to believe. Hadn't the stubborn human fought him with religious devotion? Didn't he tense and bristle beneath Spock's yoke? It was the opportunity to heal that kept McCoy bound. If not for that, Spock knew he would have to employ deep controls through the bond to keep the human in check because his fierce doctor would never bow willingly. At least, he _had_ thought that, but as McCoy worked over his body, he noticed that the doctor's efforts seemed rote and half-hearted. He found this reaction confusing but fought back the rising temptation to delve into the human's mind, to seek out the reasons behind his slave's perplexing behavior. He had made a promise, and he would not risk damaging the doctor's hard-won trust merely to satisfy his own frustrated curiosity. For all his best intentions, though, there was only so much he could block as naked flesh and raw emotion rubbed and writhed over him. Picking through the remnants, Spock was jolted by what he found. McCoy was _angry_. Why would freedom leave his human suffering under the perception of betrayal?

Rearing back, Spock flipped them, tumbling them body to hot body to pin his human beneath him on the bed. Seizing McCoy's wrists, he stretched them out helplessly above the human's head and pressed them securely to the sheet with one arm. Using his hips to splay the human's thighs wide around him, he thrust deeply into the ready body, seating himself to the hilt. Beneath him, McCoy gasped and arched into the intrusion, writhing and pulling desperately against the hands that bound him to the bed. He bucked and fought but the Vulcan held him easily, plying his body with shallow thrusts, an undeniable reminder of who was now in control. Beneath him, McCoy's meager strength began to flag, and he relaxed back onto the sheets, arms limp from exertion. Using his free hand, Spock grasped the human's chin and pulled his head back, baring the column of his throat to his teeth and tongue. Worrying mercilessly at the tender skin, Spock growled, "_You feel anger, Kafeh. I am failing to please you as you have pleased me. You do not want what I have offered you tonight." _Pulling his head back, he gazed piercingly into the human's tense face. "_Give me your thoughts, Kafeh, because you will it, not because I take them. Tell me what it is, this need of yours that you will not share."_

Beneath his hands, the human squirmed futilely. Rebellion and dissension were written into the very fabric of his being but underneath each revolt Spock detected a profound sense of relief. His _kafeh_ might fight him, but Spock had long known that at his core McCoy found comfort and solace in his dominance. He had used this information for his own purposes, teased the doctor with it when is suited him, but he had never once asked why. Suddenly, he needed to know, needed to understand this loathed but paramount desire that afflicted his human. Cradling McCoy's cheek, he forced the human to meet his eyes.

"_Kafeh, will you continue to fight me? I told you once that I desired your compliance but that if you denied me I would simply take what is mine. And you remain mine. Is that what has prompted this emotional response. Do you seek to test my commitment? _

An indignant spark ignited in the hazel eyes and Spock pounced upon it. "_Ah, no, Kafeh, I can see that is not what troubles you. What, then? What is the source of your need to feel my power? _

Beneath him, McCoy shut his eyes and attempted to pull away but Spock held him fast, thrusting sharply into the human's and drawing a harsh gasp. Meeting his gaze with fury burning across his face, McCoy spit out across the bond, "_You've made me an open book. Why are you even asking me? If you want answers, you can just go in my head and pull them out!"_

Spock traced a finger idly down the bridge of the human's nose. "_This is true, Kafeh, but I tell you now that I will not do this. I believe that you wish me to know but do not desire to tell me. But you and I have circled around this fact since I first claimed you. _

_It is not just the knowledge that I want. I still desire your compliance. I desire the trust you have bestowed upon me. I desire the vulnerability necessary to speak difficult truths to me. So, no, my Kafeh, I will not take what I want. I will wait for you to give it willingly."_

Adjusting his hold on McCoy's wrists, Spock settled the long lines of his body against that of the human's but made no effort to move within him. Their eyes met and held, unyielding black orbs locking on unwavering hazel in a stalemate. Letting his free hand continue to trace the human's facial features, Spock settled into the stare-off and waited as McCoy's stalwart resistance began to crumble under his tender touch.

"_Suppose I don't tell you? What will you do? _The look in the human's eyes was almost accusatory. "_Will you punish me? Are you going to stop me from treating patients?"_

A spark of real anger flared in the Vulcan's chest but he stifled it instantly. They were, he realized, fair questions. _"Kafeh, I will not compel or coerce you. In this instance, if you choose to deny me, I will accept that. There will be no consequences to your decision."_

His tone was even and carried a soothing timber but the words themselves were the match to the long buried powder keg of his doctor's emotions. Under a sudden surge of adrenaline, McCoy yanked one of his hands free and battered at the Vulcan's shoulder and back. Spock watched the flailing arm, noting the ease with which he could capture it and pin it back down. It was instinctual, the need to seize and pin, but he stopped himself and pulled back instead, out and away from the struggling body beneath him. Resting back on his heels, he watched as McCoy scrambled back and away to press into the wall on the far side of their bed. Meeting the human's eyes, Spock anticipated confusion and panic but his prickly _kafeh_ managed to surprise him once again. The human met his gaze in a full on, audible rage.

"_Don't_. Don't do that. I said I trusted you because you never lied to me but dammit, you're lying to me _now_. Don't you dare pretend you're doing this for me. You've spent three damn years pulling me apart and you know me. And maybe you haven't let me run roughshod through your mind but let me tell you, I know you, too.

Here's what I know. Everything you do is for you. You sit here and tell me you won't go riffling through my head and pretend you're doing me a favor? Bullshit! You know me and you know how much I hate to have to admit things to your face. But that doesn't stop you from making me do it. So let's not play games here. Every time I break down and admit something to you, that's just another little piece of me you get to own. That's what this is about, not trust or coercion, just you getting to own another little piece of me!"

The human's face was flushed, his body tense and furious, but Spock was certain he'd never looked more enticing. His eyes had a wild, primitive glow to them and his fists were curled tightly, the muscles in his arms shaking with effort as he clutched the smooth material of the sheet. The plush lips Spock enjoyed so much were curling back from his teeth in an animalistic snarl. There wasn't a trace of fear anywhere on the human, only the fury that rolled off of him in waves and lapped at Spock's knees.

Cocking his head slightly, Spock eyed McCoy, turning the angry words over in his head as he assessed his prey from across the bed. Slowly, the human's fingers began to uncurl as the reality of his tirade finally began to fracture. The rough aggression ebbed away as he considered the possible ramifications of his outburst. Curling in on himself defensively, McCoy stared down at the sheet, twisted from his grasp.

Now Spock could sense fear from the doctor, not for himself, of course, but for the patient's under his care. A sharp sliver of annoyance shot through the Vulcan, but he realized the human's concern was to be expected. He'd promised that McCoy would suffer no repercussions for choosing not to answer him but nothing had been said about explosive verbal attacks. McCoy's resistance was usually so subtle. In fact, he had not graced Spock with his acid tongue since the bond had been implemented. It was inappropriate for a bonded _kafeh_ to address his _trensu_ with anything other than respect, but Spock could not deny the spark McCoy's rancor raised within him. This was what he wanted, the indomitable spirit that had first attracted him to the human. The fierce determination that had made McCoy fight him every step of the way.

Humans and their _emotions!_ How was he to rectify this with McCoy's distress? The human wanted to fight, reveled in the fight, but under no circumstances did he want to win. He wanted push and to rebel but only as long as Spock eventually pinned him down and reasserted his control. Also, though he was quite aware of his strange need, McCoy desperately did not want to admit it aloud. If he, Spock, were to pull the knowledge from his head, that would be acceptable, but to be forced to admit it the Vulcan's face would be devastating to his human.

Spock considered these revelations as he stared at the man across the bed. McCoy had not always needed this. Spock had not evidence to support his theory but deep seated instinct told him it was true. Something had happened to his _kafeh_ that made him crave a domineering hand and Spock _needed_ to know what it was. He found himself faced with discomfiting indecision. Should he enter the human's mind and take the knowledge he craved. McCoy would prefer this, since it would require no admittance or responsibility on his part. Yet, even as his fingers twitched against his leg, desiring to meld, he found himself deciding no. What would bring temporary relief would ultimately lead to the destruction of everything he and the human had built between them. No, he would woo the information from his doctor, woo it with his own vulnerable declarations.

Casting a deceptively cold look at McCoy, he leaned forward on his hands and knees and stalked across the sheet.

"You are correct, _Kafeh._ Under Vulcan custom, you are mine in mind and body. I am fully within my rights to probe your every thought if I so choose. I do not have to ask, I am free to simply take but as you have noticed, I often choose not to. Instead I seek out ways to make you admit your secrets to me. I do this deliberately and I enjoy it."

The human's face twisted in miserable but helpless acceptance, squeezing his eyes shut, and Spock seized the opportunity. Lunging forward, he hooked an arm around McCoy's waist and hauled him across the bed. The human slammed into him, losing his breath from the impact as Spock reached up and threaded a hand through the short, brown hair. He fisted the chestnut locks, using the handhold to bend McCoy to his lips. Then he captured the human's mouth, plundering his lips, given a harsh yank to the brown hair when the human resisted. Beneath his greedy, seeking tongue, Spock felt capitulation as McCoy relaxed beneath him and began to respond. He immediately gentled his assault, plying the human's tongue lightly and playfully as he released the fierce grip on McCoy's hair and began to slowly massage the tense cords of his neck.

The fight was leaving McCoy, their kiss becoming heated as the doctor capitulated and began to respond with enthusiasm, but Spock realized that simple surrender would not satisfy him, not tonight or any night after. The plan that had been slowly taking shape in the back of his mind suddenly crystallized into perfect clarity, morphing instantly from mere fancy to absolute necessity. It was ill-conceived and dangerous, and could easily result in his own death, but Spock found he simply did not care for even one hour of true companionship with this incredible creature would be well worth the sacrifice. First, however, he must secure his human's willing compliance for there was no forcing a bond such as this.

Loosening his hold on McCoy's waist, Spock pulled back slightly, breaking their kiss and meeting the human's wary eyes. Stroking a hand lightly across his cheek, Spock pushed gently, into McCoy's mind.

"_Leonard?"_

At the sound of his given name, real terror darkened the human's face but Spock pressed a finger to the cool lips and continued. "_Do not be alarmed." _His hand returned to McCoy's neck and he felt the human's tension begin to abate beneath his touch. _"Leonard, I confess I do crave your secrets. I do enjoy your stubborn refusal and the sense of gratification I feel when you finally make an admission to me. But if you assume that I take some sort of malicious satisfaction in your pain, then you are wrong. _

_I take pleasure in your confessions because they allow me to fuel what I believe you would call a fantasy. It allows me to ignore the traditional confines of our relationship and imagine us as equal partners. Recently, I have pushed you more and more for this omissions and I realize now that my motivation is my own willingness to allow the fantasy to stay in my mind. I wish it to become the reality of our lives."_

Drawing back, he contemplated the human's face. Leonard appeared shocked, he eyes wide and his lips pursed in amazement. Resting his hands on the Vulcan's shoulders, he spoke in a panicked but carefully measured voice.

"What are you saying? Even talking about something like this could get you killed."

Spock nearly smiled at his human's concern. "_I have considered the risk and I deem it acceptable."_

"_Well, I don't." _bellowed the human from inside his head. "_In case you haven't noticed, I'm a doctor. My job is to preserve life and that includes yours. Are you out of your Vulcan mind? What could you possibly hope to gain from this? Of all the illogical, ridiculous…"_

McCoy's mental tirade cut off abruptly as Spock raised a hand and tenderly stroked his face. _"This, Leonard, is what I hope to gain from it. You're honesty and temperament. I want you unafraid to speak your mind. I have observed you carefully these past three years and I realize that you require transparency and honesty above all things. It is true that I have not lied to your face but I have lied through omission many times. _

_I admit that there are risks to the bond. My kinsmen would most likely kill me if they discovered it. However, the likelihood of that is minimal. I am, after all, not in the habit of engaging in mind melds with random strangers and my shields are of sufficient strength that accidental physical contact would reveal little more than the expected bond between kafeh and trensu."_

"_But you do meld with your father!"_

"_You are correct and he would be well within his rights to demand my life and your service if he discovered it. However, my father is not in the habit of scouring through my mind, even during a meld. I also believe that, were he to discover the bond, his reaction might be surprisingly supportive."_

In his arms, McCoy began to sag as his passionate resistance slowly gave out. _"Why do this? If you want me to stop fighting you then fine, I'll stop. That's no reason to take this kind of risk."_

"_Perhaps, Doctor, if that was all I desired. However, what I want is your complete trust, given, not taken. The nature of this bond will allow you to have what I have, a full understanding of my mind. I will also give you the training required to re-establish your shields so that you may keep some of your thoughts for yourself. There would be equality between us, a relationship built on our mutual desires. That, Leonard, is what I want."_

McCoy glared at him, his expression mulish. _"Let me make sure I understand here. Three years ago, you kidnapped me and forced me into a slave bond. Since then, you have used me in every way a person can be used. And now, with almost no warning, you tell me that what you really want is an equal relationship. What if I say no?"_

The expression on the Vulcan's face remained tender, "_Then I would be forced to accept your decision."_

"_Bullshit…you've never accepted anything from me. You could just take away my right to treat the others until I agreed."_

"_Yes, I could do that, but it would be rather counterproductive. One forced bond is no different than another. Leonard, the only way for me to have what I desire is if you will willingly grant it. Your responsibilities among the clan's slaves are immaterial here."_ Reaching up to cup McCoy's cheek, he drew their faces close, pressing their foreheads together so he could stare into the human's eyes. "_You would gain much from this; control, respect, a full understanding of my feelings for you. I would gain much as well, most notably a sense of real companionship and the freedom to express my true feelings. As for my safety, it will be necessary for us to maintain a public façade of master and slave, but here, in private, we would be equals."_

Closing his eyes, Spock ran his lips over the human's jaw and neck, breathing in his scent. "_I desire this, Leonard. I believe that I have desired it for a long time, perhaps years. But I will force nothing on you. I will not even take your thoughts, Doctor. I will only ask you, humbly and honestly, to be my mate. Please tell me what you think."_

"_I think you're out of your damn mind."_

The Vulcan smiled. "_That is entirely possible. My own kind would agree with you, no doubt. However, you must not forget that I too am human. I too am emotional and foolish at times. Now please, tell me, what is your answer?"_

"_We'll be careful, right?"_

"_Of course._

"_You say this so lightly."_

"_No, I assure you that I speak with deep conviction, the kind that can only be had when one is certain of their path."_

Pulling away slightly, McCoy shut his eyes, biting his lip in concentration. Slight tremors in his cheeks were the only indication of the war of conflicting emotions that raged within him, but Spock made no move to push or inquire, patiently waiting as the human weighed the heavy decision that had been thrust upon him.

Spock looked up when McCoy exhaled deeply and opened his eyes. Looking up to meet Spock face to face, the doctor nodded his head slowly. _"Alright. I'll give you what you want."_

The Vulcan left no time for reconsideration as he pulled the human close and bore him back down on the bed and took his mouth. He half expected some instinctual resistance, but McCoy met his kiss with eager enthusiasm.

He tensed a bit as Spock took his hands and pinned them above his head. "_Will I feel anything?"_

Spock smirked against his lips. "_You will feel everything. And you will enjoy it immensely." _

Grasping the human's wrist in one hand, Spock ran his fingers lightly over McCoy's throat and chest, enjoying the subtle hitch in the other man's breath. Skirting up an over McCoy's jaw, he was reaching for the meld points when suddenly his human spoke.

"It's because I've been in control before. I didn't do a good job. People died. I don't ever want that to happen again."

Staring down, Spock cocked his head. With a slight shrug, McCoy continued. "You wanted to know, didn't you? You wanted to know why I needed you to be in control all the time. I want to tell you now, so that you definitely hear it from me and not because you picked up through my thoughts." At Spock's understanding nod, McCoy went on, "You see, I used to be in control of everything. I took care of my family and ran an entire hospital. So many people were my responsibility. They were under my care and looked up to me and I failed them. Illness took my father even though I promised to save him. Violence and war took my family and patients even though I swore to keep them safe. I've been in control before, enough to know that I don't want to be in control again."

"Your wife and the little girl…Joanna? They are dead?"

"Years ago."

Leaning over the prone form beneath him, Spock sought McCoy's ear as fingers probed and prepared the man's body. "I could tell you, of course, that these things are not your fault, but I am certain you have heard those words before and they have brought little comfort. Instead, I will simply assure you that you will still be mine. I will simply be yours as well. And neither of us need fear, for we will protect and comfort each other." Skimming his hand back up the human's face, he found the meld points and pushed.

He lost all connection to his physical self as his mind raced along the threads of their existing bond, tracing it back to the anchors he had set in McCoy's consciousness three years prior. The bond trembled beneath his mental touch, perhaps sensing its demise as he seized it and ripped it roughly, threading newer, stronger, brighter strands to bind their minds together mutually. This new pathway was smooth, unresisting, and he could feel McCoy's hesitant exploration deep within his thoughts. Reaching for his wandering mate, he called out, _"Leonard?"_

"_Trensu?" _came a directionless reply.

"_You will not call me that anymore, not here. I am no longer your master."_

"_What do I call you then?"_

Within his mind, the Vulcan smiled. _"You will call me by my given name. You will call me Spock."_

_Spock._ The name dragged him out of his mind, back to the present, to the physical, to a body as locked in the instinctual needs of the bond as his mind. Incredible bursts of pleasure ripped through him and he opened his eyes to find himself sprawled over the thrashing, moaning form of his newly taken mate. His body was simply beyond his control, driving into the human beneath him with animalistic intensity. His body was its own entity, his mind had no recourse, but whatever fears he may have had about his mate's well-being died out as Leonard wrapped his arms and legs around Spock's heaving form, meeting him thrust for thrust. The human's head thrashed from side to side and deep, mindless moans poured from his throat. Spock devoured those sounds, given freely in ecstasy, not moderated by the confines or demands of a slave bond.

His human was beautiful in his wantonness, inhibitions scattered as he gave himself over to their coupling. His own body felt surreal to him, unfettered, but he found the loss of control most satisfying as mindless pleasure wafted over him. Everything was electrified, magnified on a never ending loop as his pleasure blended with that of his mate's, racing in both directions up and down the bond.

Wrapping his arms around the human's back, he pulled Leonard up to straddle him across his knees, pressing their bodies flush as he continued to pound into his willing mate. His exceptional strength was put to use, lifting the human and driving him back along his shaft, again and again as Leonard moaned and arched over his arm.

A coil of delicious sensation was rippling across the bond and forming in his belly and Spock knew that his human was close. Their link was acting on its own agenda, pushing them towards powerful and mutual gratification and Spock began to thrust harder as Leonard wrapped his arms around Spock's shoulder s and clung, sending jolts of decadent friction to every inch of their sensitized skin. Leaning in, Leonard pressed his forehead against his mate's, their thick, panting breath intermingling as their eyes met and held. Every nerve in their bodies was singing for release, compounding and multiplying on top of each other as each sensation felt by one was magnified by the other. They were hovering on the precipice when Leonard suddenly threw his arm around the Vulcan's neck and pressed their lips together.

The reaction was instantaneous, an explosion that began in his cock and ripped through every synapse in his body. His mind stuttered and went momentarily dead as he tore his lips away from the human to let loose a primal roar of satisfaction. Leonard threw back his head, his mouth thrown open in a voiceless cry, his eyes wide and shocked by the force of the climax pouring over him.

It could have gone on for hours but slowly, conscious thought began to return to the Vulcan. His body, so strong and agile under normal circumstances, was loose-limbed and trembling, and he could barely support the half-conscious human that dangled weakly over his arm. Using his last reserves of strength, he guided them down to the bed, letting Leonard sprawl across the sheets as he sank down atop him and burrowed his head into the human's chest. Their hearts were racing and they gasped for breath in perfect tandem.

Leonard was fading, he could sense it across the bond. Sleep was a necessity for the exhausted human and Spock would let him take all he needed, but first he had to see him, had to look into the eyes of the human who had somehow seized his heart.

His skin was on fire, nearly too sensitive to touch, and he finally drew back, pushing himself up on his arms to lean over the gasping, panting, sated form of his human as he fought to catch his own breath. Beneath him, McCoy forced his eyes open and on him even as complete exhaustion threatened to claim him. The look in the human's eyes was deep and mysterious and Spock ached to plumb their depths, but such an action would be foolish in his depleted condition. Instead, as McCoy's trembling arm reached out and elegant fingers threaded through the ebony tendrils of his hair, he found the breath to ask, "What is this look you have? What do you see?"

The human's eyes were fighting to close but a small, impish smile spread across your lips. His voice was husky and heavy with sleep as he murmured, "You. It's just…you're…beautiful." His voice died away on the last word as fatigue finally pulled him into a deep slumber.

Staring down at his unconscious mate, the irascible features softened in sleep, Spock contemplated his new fate. It was worth it, so very worth it, but the challenges they would face would be harsh and numerous. Someday, he knew, he would be called on to take a wife, to bond with a Vulcan female in order to produce an heir. Such a day was many years off but it would come, and then they would most likely have to flee, leaving everything Spock knew behind. Then they would truly be equals, two homeless strangers adrift with nothing but each other to tether them. And yet, even in the face of such hardships, the sacrifice still seemed worth the prize.

Exhaustion was threatening to claim him but he took a moment to skim his hand along the peaceful face of his _kafeh._ No, _no_, never again would this man be slave. Not _kafeh _but _ashayam, _lover. At least here, in this room, if not the universe over.

What would it be like, he wondered as he sank bonelessly to the bed and pulled the loose-limbed human into his arms, to live in a world of peace between their people? If they had been born allies instead of foes, what could they have become, what could they have accomplished together? Hypothetical musings served no valuable purpose, but still he could not help but wonder what might have been.

But now weariness was dragging him down and he needed to seek necessary rejuvenation. Turning carefully on his side, he nestled Leonard's sleeping form against him, gently pushing back a lock of hair and pressing a tender kiss. A sense of peace permeated the bond and washed over him, sending him into a sated and contented sleep.

_Worth, indeed._

_-Fin_


End file.
